Hunger. Cold.

A story of hope? despair? love? fear? I can't even tell haha. You decide!

         Hunger. Cold. Flashes of his memories flooded back to him. Memories of a beautiful woman laying next him, a small child running with a kite, laughter with another man over a few beers. A smile creeps across his face. The warm memories wrapping around like a blanket of energy.

         Hunger. Cold. Darkness, however, creeps into his mind. Memories of a flat screen showing wide spread panic, confusion as the small child grabs stuffed animals and a woman’s panicked yell demanding to hurry up, the other man taking bags from his hand and throwing them into the car. His smile falters.   

         Hunger. Cold. The memories become darker; stuck in traffic in the middle of the night, handing the beautiful woman a revolver and telling her it will be alright, grabbing bags from the trunk of their car as people are jumping from car to car, running from something. Feet pounding on pavement as screams, terrible and painful screams are heard from behind him. The screaming is gone as he watches himself entering a house with the beautiful woman, the man, and small child in tow.

         Hunger. Cold. He rolls onto his stomach and finds himself in a house. A cold feeling is creeping through his body. Could this be the same house in his memory? He tries to call out but his throat is too dry an all he could muster was a groan. Was the woman his wife? Sister? Was that his child or the other man’s kid? Was the other man his friend, neighbor, or stranger? Multiple questions running through his mind, but no answers can be found. He shambles into the next room and notices there is fresh blood on the walls. He stumbles over something on the floor as he continues through the room. He looks down and sees two bodies. One he did not recognize with a bashed in head but appears to have been dead for some time. The other was the man from his memories lying in a pool of blood. His stomach, gone, as if someone or something had tore into it. His face is contorted in terror, mouth open still screaming the scream that could no longer be heard.

         Hunger. Cold. His memory returned crashing over him like a huge wave. He remembers now. The beautiful woman stands in front of him holding his hand, dressed in a white gown, as a priest presides over them saying “I know pronounce you husband and wife.” His wife crying, not tears of sadness, but tears of joy as a doctor present them with a baby, his baby. His best friend standing, kicking it with him, laughing and drinking a few beers as they watch Sunday night football…His mind flashes to the house. He enters the house with his wife, best friend and little son in tow. The house was silent.

         “We need food” said his best friend. “I am going to check the kitchen” He hurries off in search of food. His wife and son head upstairs to see what supplies they could find. He watches them head upstairs and is about to follow when he hears his friend scream. He rushes to the kitchen and a monster falls on him. The living dead that they had fought so hard to avoid swarmed the kitchen. The rumors were true. This was no exaggerated story. These were lifeless forms of decomposing humans whose stench was overwhelming. The monster had knocked him to the floor and was pressing down on him. The monster’s face was inches from his face as he scrambled to grab anything with his right hand and with his left, holding the monster back. He was losing strength; the monster was heavy and seemed to be gaining strength knowing how close it was to food. He was about to pass out from the stench when his hand brushed by a knife that had possibly fallen from the counter. With one last surge of energy he shoved the knife through the monsters eye and shoved him to the side. He saw his best friend struggling with 2 monsters on him as he backed into the next room. He rushed after them. A struggle, then a scream, a terrible and painful scream, is heard.

         Hunger. Cold. He remembers now. The undead panic rampaging across the country. He was a fool to believe they would be safe here. He recalls killing one, and obviously this second one lying next to his friend was the second. But there was a third, somewhere, still roaming the house. His mind jumps to his wife and child. They were still in the house with this monster. A woman’s scream is heard from upstairs. A loud bang follows. It sounded like a gun being fired. Fear creeps inside the man. Hunger claws at his stomach. He tries to call out, but all he could muster was a moan. He rushes upstairs. He could smell an acrid burnt smell as if a gun had just gone off. He hurries to find the source of the smell.

         Hunger. Cold. He can barely think. He shivers from the cold but his worry about his family is overcoming the cold feeling creeping throughout his body and the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He reaches the room where the smell is the strongest. His eyes widen as he sees his son standing over a corpse with a piece of its head missing. His son looks up into his father’s eyes. He gives his father a confused look as he lowers the revolver. His wife, blood seeping from her skull as if she was hit over the head, yells out “get away from him!”

         She hurries to grab the gun from his son. She pushes him behind her as she points the gun at him. Behind her is a mirror where he can see his reflection. His heart drops, or it would have if it were still beating. He sees himself; skin white as quartz, lifeless eyes staring back at him, blood caked around a wound on his neck. The hunger and cold, he realizes and understands now, was not from not eating all day or waking up on the floor. He has become the monster he has fought and feared for so long. He has never felt so cold in his life. He could feel his mind slipping into madness. He tries to call out to his wife but all he could manage was a moan, a long drawn out moan. His wife, gun still pointed at him, gives him a cold and hard stare. But her eyes betray her. He could see the fear, the sadness, the determination to protect her child like a lion protecting her cub, yet the unwillingness to pull the trigger on the man she married, the man she still loves. This gives him comfort. He knows she will do everything in her power to keep herself and son alive. He could feel the hunger tearing through his stomach and realizes the inevitable. He wonders how long he has before he completely loses his mind and the hunger takes over as he becomes a monster, killing and eating anything that still breathes. His mind races back to his past life. A life filled with happiness and love with his family and friends. He uses these memories to gather his strength for one last audible sentence and manages an “I love you.” His wife is taken aback. He manages a smile and nods at her. With shaky hands she points the gun at him and whispers “I’m sorry” as she c***s the gun…-END.

Author's Note

my third piece I wrote last night. I have always had an interest in post apocalyptic settings so I decided to try my hand at it =) constructive criticism is always welcome!

Reviews

[Kianna L. Bearden]

i think this is awesome!