Postmortem

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Postmortem

 

Mr. Davis had left the plane at last, hoping to find an acquaintance in the airport. It had been a while since he met Mr. Webb, a successful scientist who had called Mr. Davis weeks ago to give him the good news. He could still be saved from his illness, he could still live on without becoming like them. Mr. Davis still remembered the day he was informed about the cure. As a fellow ex-soldier who had come closer to death several times, he knew that life was too precious to lose in the hands of a basic disease.

Mr. Davis was a built man with a scarred body, some of which were newly formed scars. The scars were gained after a recent war, between the entire humanity and some strange creatures. He did not remember their name, he did not want to. The thing he knew was that the creatures had wounded him, laying the disease underneath his skin into his veins. There were times he had lost control, but with his will he would return his consciousness. He could keep himself under control, for about a year, but the disease was going worse and stronger each day. Mr. Webb’s call that night, when he explained that they had the cure at last, cheered Mr. Davis up a bit, and then he decided to set off to get the treatment. He was there at the airport, standing near the door, but Mr. Webb was not there. Mr. Davis decided to give him a ring.

“Anthony Webb,” the phone was answered.

“It’s me, Rick Davis. I cannot see you; could you tell me where you are?”

“Sorry, I am not there for you, I had to visit someone.” He sighed. “Why don’t we meet in a restaurant? We could have lunch before the exchange. By the way, you have the money, don’t you?”

Mr. Davis looked at the bag in his hands. “I do,” he replied. “Just message me the address. I’ll be there.” In a minute, he had delivered the message. Upon getting out, he hailed a taxi and got in.

The address had led him to a shabby restaurant which was not crowded at all, but that was the address he was given, so he should not question anything. He entered to see Mr. Webb wave at him. He looked old with his wrinkled face and gray hair, but his face was still the same despite the wrinkles. He was sitting at a table away from the door, probably trying to keep the deal as a secret. Mr. Davis sat facing him.

“Good day, sir. How are you?”

“No time for those,” Mr. Davis reacted. “Here is the money.”

“I trust you, but I have to ask again to confirm. How much money is there? The medicine is important, you know.”

“”Yeah, I know how important the discovery is… Five hundred, like you asked.” He opened the bag and showed him the five hundred thousand dollars he had with him. He had saved the money all through his life and then he was using it to survive. “I need to see it though, to complete the purchase. Then, I’ll just ask my scientist to process it and…”

“I know the process as better as you,” Mr. Webb interrupted. “You could even eat the creature, I don’t care. All I’m going to do is to sell the creature, brother.” Mr. Davis nodded as Mr. Webb went on. “So, how are you after the war?”

“Yeah, all that.” He sighed. “It was going fine until I was no longer able to keep myself stable for a long time.” Mr. Webb hummed, slowly tilting his head from side to side. “Then you told me about it… How could you get such a dangerous creature into your glassed capsule?”

“You know, they cannot bear any explosions. One of them was still paralyzed when we got there. Anyway, let’s go to the lab.” They stood up simultaneously. Mr. Davis followed Mr. Webb to his Alfa Romeo.

Mr. Webb pulled up in front of a hotel, neglecting the confused expression of Mr. Davis. “I have an underground lab,” he spoke. “Those who know me do know where to find me, but they don’t know where the lab is located. Weird, no?” Mr. Davis accepted as they got off. Mr. Webb accompanied his friend to the elevator and entered a password as he pressed the numbers. They arrived to an underground lab, as promised. Mr. Webb turned the lights on and the creature appeared in all his glory, sleeping in the capsule.

“I cannot believe that I’m looking at a pacified one,” Mr. Davis lectured as he moved his hands on the thick glass between him and the zombie. “Perfect.”

The zombie was a thin, weak one with his wounded face. One of his eyes had been ripped off, but he looked grotesque. His white skin seemed tortured, but ecstasy was dripping from his smiling face, completing a sadomasochist portrait. His death was going to give Mr. Davis life and that was the most exciting part of all. “I am buying it,” he expressed. “I will be saved.”

 

A week later, the scientist he had hired called Mr. Davis to the lab, good news were that the blood of the zombie was processed and ready to be injected. That made Mr. Davis even happier and the first thing he did was going to the lab. No more freak-outs, he thought. He was going to be sane again.

“You will be injected once a month, sir. If you do that twice, it could even turn you completely into a zombie.” Mr. Davis was OK with the deal. He smiled as he got injected. There were nine more syringes awaiting him, which were put into a special box by the female scientist.

 

Three months with the injections had gone by. Mr. Davis even had a girlfriend to go on a date, then. Her name was Lena; she seemed aristocratic in whatever she did. Even her speech was polite, glittering with carefully chosen, fragile words. She was as beautiful as princesses, and maybe politeness was the responsibility a princess should have. Though, it was how she felt and what she was, she was happy that way. That night, they were out on a date in an expensive restaurant. They entered the restaurant hand on hand, leaving their wet umbrellas and coats behind them. They ordered their red vines and started their romantic night in a good way. Yeti things were not so bright for Mr. Davis. He had a strange desire to eat human flesh and drink human blood. He tried to keep under control, but his pain was reflecting onto his face which made Lena worry about him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I am alright.”

“Why don’t you go and wash your face? Then we could see a doctor, maybe?”

“Good idea,” he got up quickly, traipsing towards the restroom. He breathed deeply as he splashed some water onto his sweaty face.

Meanwhile, a pickpocket had felt his presence. Actually, he felt the presence of money there. He sneaked towards the man, forgetting about the mirror. He leaned towards Mr. Davis’ pocket when he turned and pushed the thief away from himself. He then ripped a rusty pipe off from the plumbing system, beating the head of the thief madly. His brain had spread all over the ground, the pieces of his head were swimming in a pool of blood. He fingered the blood and tasted it, when he suddenly realized what he had done. With a silent scream he threw the pipe away from himself and looked for an exit, before somebody came in. He plunged through the small window of the restroom, stepping into a back alley with dumpsters and cats around. He took out his mobile phone to call Mr. Webb about the dehumanization, but his phone was not working. He had to find a phone booth. He ran through the rain, leaving cafés and bookstores behind, along with the smell of sweat and coffee, begging to find a phone booth. His suit was soaked in blood, so he could not walk around with those, he did not want to attract any suspicion. Breathlessly, he reached the phone booth across a gas station.

“Brother, I’m in big trouble!”

“Calm down! What’s going on?”

“I have started to be dehumanized. I accidentally killed someone and sucked his blood.”

“What? Where are you now?”

“I will get to my estate, but I need to see you. The cure did not work… May I stay with you?”

“Alright, but be careful, we need you,” he replied, although he did not understand most of the chat.

 

A week had passed by. Mr. Davis was shaken with the murder he had committed. He was injected several times whenever he delivered a shock, but they were running out of blood. Mr. Davis was still tense and painful, but he tried to hide the pain away from his friend, not to make him sad. He just told them to find a cure quickly, as his body would not be able to stand the pressure soon. To relax him a bit, Mr. Webb decided to take him to a shore where they could swim in the river. Mr. Davis thanked a million times for it, but this could not prevent him from trying to drown Mr. Webb involuntarily. Mr. Webb hopefully choked Mr. Davis, making him faint and took him back to the underground laboratory.

Mr. Davis had woken up, tied onto a bed and unable to think clearly. Scientists were all around him, blabbering about how to save him, but Mr. Davis would not understand. The zombie blood was dangerous for him at that point, but it was the only cure they had. Mr. Webb had an idea. What if they tried to make some artificial blood which was to cure the soldier instead of hurting him? This would take at least a year to achieve, but would be worth. They locked Mr. Davis into a dark cell, neglecting his painful screams which then turned into gory screams of a monster which wanted to be fed with blood and human flesh.

 

He spent a year in the cell, his disease had gone worse and worse. One day, he heard the door get unlocked. The bed he was tied on was dragged outside for the final injection, to give him life or take it. They prayed for it, Mr. Webb even cried for his friend, but Mr. Davis would not understand. Something unexpected had happened: Neither of the options had come true. The injection made Davis strong enough to set himself free. He fell on the scientists, contaminating their blood. Mr. Webb did not escape when he could. He was too sad for his friend…