The Cure
Janet
pulled me as quickly, but more importantly, as quietly as we could move through
the trailer park (sorry, I didn’t get a chance to read the name on the sign as
we were running for our lives). She stopped, suddenly, her grip tightening on
my fingers as well as the cheesy “For Sale” sign she picked up. For a second I
forgot about the chunk of flesh missing from my calf as her vice-grip
threatened to crush every bone in my hand.
I
tapped her gently with the bowling pin in my other hand. Janet let out the
slightest of “eeks” as she swung the sign, the wooden stake stopping just
inches from my head. Though, to be honest, it was that bland smile of Ann Johnson,
Realtor, which made me the most uneasy. Like having a third person with us,
just judging with those dead eyes and brilliantly white smile.
“Sorry,
Steven. I just –” Her voice cut off. She lowered the sign before collapsing to
her knees. I collapsed with her, dropping the bowling pin onto the pavement as
well. She pulled in close and we huddled against the cheap paneling of one of
the trailers. I let Janet’s tears soak into my shirt as we listened to the
zombies around us but still out of sight. The dragging of feet, the crunching
of gravel, the constant chattering of teeth.
I
decided then to tell her the worse news, but, from the look on her face, she
already knew. “We were almost there,” I said, unsure if she could even hear me,
“Hollows Wood was only a couple more miles away.” That was where our group was
headed. I didn’t even know where anyone in the group was anymore. Rumors were
that Hollows Wood was not only zombie-free, but that the research lab out there
had developed a cure. So close. I looked down at my leg. Honestly, I was
surprised to have survived this long, but even now I felt the change coming on
like the beginnings of a tsunami, life just flowing farther and farther out of
me moments before death and reanimation surged.
There
was a loud crunch of gravel and a dozen or so corpses turned the corner from
the other side of the trailer. I shot up faster than my body should have been
able to move at that point. A final spike of adrenaline, maybe. I lifted my
wife to her feet and we ran. There wasn’t any time to care about attracting
more of them. I raced between trailers, the bowling pin in one hand, the other
pulling Janet along, her “For Sale” sign dragging along the ground behind us.
We ran as far as my legs could take me, which, unfortunately was only to the
chain-linked edge of the trailer park.
I
convulsed once, twice, falling to the ground. Terror and dread consumed Janet’s
face and it took every facial muscle I had to configure my face into something
more or less reassuring. I dropped the bowling pin and pointed in one direction
– away. She understood and ran.
That’s
when the cold set in. Every sense connected to feeling just went cold. And
numb. My eyes dimmed next, blind to anything not less than an arm’s length.
Then, the hunger. I didn’t need to eat, but I wanted to. It became the only
thing there was. I wondered how long I could fight it. I wondered if I would
ever see my wife again. Then the wondering stopped. There was only darkness.
And only one voice.
Our
voice. The growl of hunger. We hungered. We groped in our darkness. Hungry. So
very hungry.
We
heard the hissing, but we didn’t care. Our prey didn’t hiss, it screamed and
cried. We moved, together, a herd, a wave of dead flesh and chattering teeth.
I
heard the hissing. Like propane leaking from a tank. It smelled a little like
it, too. I felt my teeth chattering. I. I. I.
We.
We ignore the sound. Gravel crunched and we moved toward it. It ran, slowly.
Our hands grabbed and clawed at the flesh, the warmth of it almost like fire to
our frozen clutches.
My
hands grasped cloth and skin and dragged it down to the ground. My hands, my teeth.
The hunger slowly subsided, but my hands are still moving, still digging and
pulling and ripping. The sound of boots marched around the trailer park. Yes,
I’m at the trailer park. I finally made my hands stop, warm and sticky. There’s
a taste of iron in my mouth and an even stranger scent in my nostrils.
A
hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me onto my back. A boot is placed firmly on
my chest. The hot barrel of a rifle is pressed to my cheek. My vision started
to come back. Three men in military fatigues gathered around me. I try to, want
to tell them I’m okay, that I’m human again, but the words failed me. Instead I
just nodded. At least I got my teeth to stop.
They
hoisted me to my feet though I still need to hold onto one of them to walk.
Around me, I can see others stirring, as if awakening from the worst nightmare
of their lives. It must be Hollows Wood. The cure. They brought it here. I was
me and only me. Maybe Janet and I and the rest of the group weren’t so far away
after all. I began to wipe the remains from my hands onto my clothes when I
look down to see the body on the ground, reduced to an unrecognizable mess. And
next to it, the bland smile of Ann Johnson, Realtor.
So, since Halloween is coming, I figured I should write a horror story. Luckily, awhile back, I needed to write a horror story for a writing contest so I already had one. I was hoping to do one story a week for all of October, but I've been playing a lot of "Destiny."
