⚠️Content Warnings: gore, cannibalism, blood/injury detail, child endangerment, medical/psychological horror
This story was written (late) for prompt #1 of Bradley Ramsey’s first First Indulgence.
I woke up alone in my bed. Not an unusual way to start the day, unfortunately, but something felt different today.
My thoughts were buried in a layer of cottony fog, and I struggled to remember yesterday. I was sick with a high fever. Everyone was sick -- there was some virulent strain of flu or something going around. My brain felt like it was deep underwater, and my thoughts and memories were struggling against the current to break the surface where I could finally see them clearly.
I groaned and sat up, my bare feet slapping onto the floor. I winced, expecting the cold tile to send its usual chill through my frame, but the floor didn’t feel cold at all. Pleasantly surprised, I stood and headed for the bathroom.
I flicked the light switch and caught a glimpse of myself in the large mirror over the sink. And I stopped dead.
Turning, I took a long look at myself. My skin was ivory pale and waxy with no color at all in my cheeks, save for the dried brown trails that traced from the corners of my eyes and my nostrils down my cheeks to my ears. The sclera of my eyes were a vivid crimson as though every single blood vessel in them had burst all at once. And my lips were the pale purplish blue of a bruise.
As awful as that was, it wasn’t what made the panic rise in my chest as I stared at my reflection.
My eyes were usually a dark brown, but today they were a pale ghostly grey, as though all the color had leached out of them.
I needed to get in to see the doctor immediately. I went to the toilet for the first stop in my morning ritual. I sat down, but unlike my usual strong flow of urine accompanied by that moment of relief and release, there was a trickle and then silence. When I wiped, there was a smear of brownish blood half clotted on the paper.
My worry grew, as I stood and headed for the phone. It was in its usual spot next to my bed, still plugged in and fully charged. I dialed the doctor’s office, but got no answer. I tried my mom, a retired nurse, hoping she might have suggestions for me. When that call also went to voice mail, I growled and got dressed, planning to drive myself to urgent care.
Just as I was pulling on my sweatshirt, my stomach gave an absurdly loud growl, and I realized I was ravenous, as though I were hollow all the way through. In the kitchen, I grabbed the cereal, planning my usual breakfast, only to open the fridge to the strong odor of sour milk.
That made no sense, since I’d only shopped a couple of days ago. Maybe the power had gone out at some point? On a whim, I checked my phone, and the date said October 1st. That couldn’t be right. Yesterday was September 17th. I was sure of it.
But I needed to eat something. My stomach felt more hollow than I could ever remember it feeling. I opened the pantry, but nothing I had there was even remotely appealing. So I headed for the fridge, hoping something might’ve survived the power outage.
Only one thing smelled delicious to me – a package of hamburger. I could see that it had gone bad, but I couldn’t stop myself once I saw it. I didn’t want to, but without a thought, I tore into the cellophane with my fingers and grabbed a handful of it, shoving it raw into my mouth. I chewed hungrily, teeth clacking and lips smacking. It tasted like the best steak I’d ever eaten.
When the entire pound of meat had been shoved into my gullet, I dug back into the freezer for more. I ate all the meat I could find, standing there in front of the open fridge door, bits of it dropping to the floor between my bare feet because I couldn’t shove entire handfuls into my mouth without dripping.
Finally, I’d eaten everything I could find, and I pulled on my shoes and socks, leaving the kitchen a mess. I just needed to get to the hospital, because something was very clearly wrong with me.
I backed my car out of the garage and nearly hit Lucy, the little girl who lived next door. I don’t know why was playing in my driveway, and my sense of urgency was riding me hard, but I knew I needed to see if she was okay. I got out to check on her, and found her lying there behind my car. I rushed to help her up, calling out, but she just ignored me and pushed herself awkwardly to her feet.
Then she stumbled off down the street, never having uttered a word or even acknowledged my presence. As she moved away, I noticed that her left foot was dragging in a disturbing way.
I bit at my lip worriedly as I watched her go. But she seemed mostly okay, and I figured I needed medical help more urgently than she did. I’d check on her when I got back or call her parents.
With that thought, I climbed back in the car and headed toward the hospital.
As I pulled out of my neighborhood, I had the thought that it was weirdly still, but I couldn’t be bothered to worry about it right now. There was no traffic. Well, there was no moving traffic. There were several cars stopped and apparently abandoned in the middle of the street, but nothing that really slowed me down.
It was as I approached the hospital that I began to see signs that something was wrong. An overturned wheelchair sat on the sidewalk, its wheel still spinning idly, though no one was in sight. A few hundred yards away, a smeared trail of blood led from the street up to the door of some clinic.
When I pulled into the emergency room driveway, I found a crowd of people wandering around. I braked hard, eyes widening as I stared.
There had to be at least fifty people in various states of undress stumbling aimlessly around in front of the E.R. doors. Some wore hospital gowns with their backsides flapping in the breeze. Others wore three-piece suits or fancy dresses. Some were in jeans or bare-chested and only wearing sweat pants. A few even wore the scrubs that suggested they worked at the hospital.
There were women, men, and children of all ages. They were empty-faced and blank-eyed. Occasional moans rose from them when they bumped into each other.
I cautiously exited the car and approached the doors on foot, carefully avoiding bumping into the strangers milling about. They ignored me as though I weren’t even there. I felt… invisible. Just like with the little girl from next door.
And I was still so fucking hungry. My stomach felt like it was consuming itself constantly now.
In the E.R. I walked up to the front desk. A single woman in scrubs stood behind the counter, but she was as dull-eyed as the people outside.
“Excuse me,” I said, waving my hand in front of her face. My voice sounded thin and raspy, as though I hadn’t spoken in weeks. If the date on my phone was right, maybe I hadn’t.
The nurse didn’t seem to see or hear me. I waved my arm more wildly, and yelled, “Hey! I need help here!”
No response. I reached across the counter and pushed her arm. She just moaned faintly in response.
What was wrong with all these people? Why wouldn’t they even look at me?
I tried a few minutes longer, then gave up and headed further into the building, through the doors marked “Staff Only.”
As I pushed through the swinging doors, I stopped, feeling as though I’d been struck. A delicious aroma hung in the air. It smelled like a fine wine – copper with hints of musk, lavender, and paprika.
My feet were taking me toward the scent without any conscious decision on my part. I needed to see what was causing that smell. I needed it now.
I pulled in a shocked breath as I turned the hallway corner and stopped, staring. Two doctors were kneeling over an old woman who lay sprawled across the floor. For just a moment, my mind assured me they were helping her. But that illusion shattered as one of the doctors shoved his whole hand into a gaping wound in the woman’s stomach and pulled out a fistful of her organ meat.
Then he shoved it into his mouth and began to chomp. He ate like he was starving – like he hadn’t eaten in days. He ate like he felt as hungry as I did.
And I understood why. That aroma pulled me forward. I wanted to know if that woman’s meat tasted as good as the bad hamburger from the fridge.
I dropped to my knees, my brain screaming at me to stop this madness, not to give in to this nightmare urge.
A nightmare! I clung to the thought hopefully, needing to believe this was some bad dream I would wake from.
But I didn’t wake. I leaned forward, closed my eyes so at least I wouldn’t be able to see what I was about to do. And I was biting into the skin next between the woman’s neck and shoulder. I was pulling meat away from the bone. I was listening to the wet tearing sound her meat coming loose, and I was chewing.
And it tasted so fucking good. Like the world’s best caviar or a Michelin-star chef’s amuse-bouche. It was everything, and I felt complete as I ate it. For the first time since I woke up, I felt whole and like myself.
Maybe this was what I needed to feel better – to get well. Maybe if I just did this the one time, I’d be okay and never have to think about this moment ever again.
Please let me never have to think about this ever again…
A sharp cracking sound snapped my eyes open to see the second doctor worrying the old woman’s leg like a dog with a bone. The sound had been one of her bones breaking. I gagged once, almost brought up the one bite I’d taken, but I swallowed again.
As much as I hated what I was doing, I needed that meat. I needed it like air.
Then I realized… Air.
I wasn’t breathing. I placed my palm flat against my chest, suddenly terrified.
I couldn’t feel my heartbeat. I didn’t know when I had last felt it.
I watched the doctors eat that old woman, and I realized the truth. Finally…
I was dead.
I was walking around, driving, thinking… But I was dead.
It seemed like everyone else was dead, too. But at least they didn’t seem to know it. They were zombies straight out of Night of the Living Dead.
I didn’t know what I was, but I wasn’t a Romero.
And I was alone among the dead.
—
‼️ If you liked this, you may wanna read some of my other fiction.
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So good!
This is so immersive I felt like I was there. Great job!