Sick Bastards

by Shaw, Matt

  “The both of you.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

  “You’re brother and sister...What you did...”

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about!” I lied again.

  “What you did is dangerous. What if she became pregnant? Not only would we struggle to look after her during a pregnancy - if things don’t change - but the baby would of course be deformed...”

  “Mother...Really....”

  The sound of Sister screaming from downstairs silenced the pair of us for a split second.

  A split second.

  “I don’t know what your father would do if he found out. But it’s wrong. Sick bastard. It stops now. Whatever it was...”

  “Mother, I honestly don’t know what you’re....” I tried to interrupt her but she spoke over me.

  “...Whatever it was...It stops. You hear me? If it continues, if you even speak about it again, your father will be dealing with you. Understand?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

  “Do you understand?”

  I realised that she wasn’t going to let it go. I reluctantly nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “Now get downstairs. We’re having a family meeting.”

  * * * * *

  Sister was sitting at the dining room table. Her head was buried in her hands and she was weeping. A sound I had grown accustomed to hearing even though I wish I hadn’t. No matter what happened between us - she was my sister and I hated seeing her upset. Not that I could blame her. Father had killed the woman. And not only that - he’d placed her on the dining room table with her clothes stripped off right in front of where he had made Sister take a seat. Father himself was standing at the head of the table with a bloodied knife in his hand.

  “Take a seat,” he ordered me as I walked into the room with Mother following close behind.

  Of course I wanted to turn and run, just as I suspect Sister and Mother may have wanted to do the same too. I didn’t though. Where was I going to run anyway? There was nowhere. Those things were outside and, for all we knew, we were the last survivors; our dysfunctional little family unit.

  “None of us may have liked what we had to do yesterday but we all knew that we didn’t really have a choice. We’ve run out of food and we don’t know when help is coming. For all we know, despite the hope we must keep hold of, there is no hope coming. For all we know, we’re alone here and will continue to be so for the rest of what remains of our lives. When opportunities come up we must, therefore, seize them - even if it means doing something that we wouldn’t usually have done before any of this happened to us.”

  “You murdered her!” I pointed out.

  “Just as you murdered the man yesterday,” Father was quick to tell me.

  “He was a looter.”

  “Did he take anything? Did he try and take anything?”

  “I thought he might...”

  “So he didn’t then. He was innocent. This woman...She was going to take something. She was going to take our food, our water and anything else she could have. I’m more justified in what I did than what you did yesterday but that’s not important. What’s done is done.” He changed the subject and I let him as I didn’t like how his picture painted me. “We can’t keep the meat fresh. It will turn before we get a chance to eat it all. With that in mind, when we’re presented with opportunities such as this one - we can’t let them go. Especially considering we don’t know where the next meal is coming from,” he said.

  I looked around the room. Sister was still sobbing. Mother was nodding her head along to what Father was saying. Did she really believe in what he was saying or was she just going along with it for a peaceful life?

  Father didn’t say anything else nor did he wait for us to argue with him. He simply took the knife and cut a slice of meat from the dead girl’s arm. I felt sick in my stomach but didn’t say anything for fear of getting shot down again. I simply turned away and wondered if this really was how we were supposed to live now.

  I closed my eyes as I heard Father bite into the first piece of flesh cut from the remains.

  * * * * *

  Now

  I took my eyes off the woman’s body. It wasn’t going to help me now, thinking back to what happened with the woman in the house. It served no purpose other than to distract me from the task at hand - staying safe and finding somewhere to lay low or (better yet) some survivors who’d be able to offer me shelter.

  Need to put the dead woman (over in the distance) from my mind. Need to ignore the thoughts of what I’d done to get to this point in my life. Need to (as much as it pains me to think it) leave my sister behind.

  I glanced back over to where those things had wandered off to. I couldn’t see them now. Better still, I couldn’t hear them either.

  The coast was as clear as it could be.

  Slowly I pulled myself up from where I had slumped against the trunk of the tree and continued making my own path through the woodland’s foliage, all the time trying to be as quiet as I could.

  PART TEN

  Now

  Shelter

  If it weren’t for the sun still going down in the evenings I’d have had no idea how long I had been walking for. It still surprised me that I could see the sun. That any of us could. I was always led to believe that, after a bomb such as the one which broke things for us, the sun would disappear behind an impenetrable radioactive cloud of dust and ash. I certainly wasn’t complaining. All the time I could see normality, such as this, it gave me hope that there was a chance things could, once again, go back to normal. Even if it’s on some distant shore that one of the planes could transport me too.

  Regardless, with the sun going down now, I knew I had been walking for about six hours. Thankfully I hadn’t seen anymore of those things but rather depressingly I hadn’t bumped into any survivors either.

  Sure, there was a part of me that was scared of seeing anyone in case they were like my own family now - poisoned by the change in the world with the potential to kill me for a food source or because they’d feel threatened by me - but at the same time I was scared of being alone too.

  At times, when the dreaded feeling of loneliness was at its strongest, I found myself wanting to shout out to see if anyone responded. Had it not been for those things running around, I probably would have to. Best stay silent though. It’s the only way.

  I pushed through a large holly bush, scratching my skin in the process, and stopped dead. There, in the distance, I could see another house. Not dissimilar to the one I had left Mother, Father and Sister taking refuge in. Perhaps a bit smaller.

  Immediately my mind wandered as to thoughts of potential survivors and, despite the noise I made underfoot, I soon found myself running towards the front door - all the time desperate to call out to the potential inhabitants of the house. Would anyone even be in there?

  By the time I got to the front door I was out of breath but that didn’t stop me from banging hard upon one of the four panels of the door. No answer. I banged again. Still no answer. A couple of seconds before I banged against it for a third time.

  I pressed my ear against the wood. There were no sounds from inside. I took a step back from the building and glanced from window to window (at the front of the house anyway) in the hope that I’d catch sight of someone standing by one of them, perhaps looking out to see if I was a threat. Surely they’d see me, a young lad by himself, and regard me as one of them? A survivor looking for help?

  May I have a cup of water? The voice of the woman haunted me. She asked for a cup of water and it sealed her fate. Would I be doing the same by talking to strangers who may be inside this house? If I ask for a cup of water will they deem me another mouth to feed just as Father had labelled the woman before taking her life?

  Simple. Don’t ask for any water. Don’t ask for anything. Maybe even refuse it the first time i
t’s offered too. Show you’re not a liability.

  My heart sank when I realised there was no one at the windows. No lights coming from the rooms either. The house was empty.

  I hurried back over to the front door and tried the handle. To my surprise it wasn’t locked and the door swung open. I guess the previous occupants (just like the ones in our home) had left in a hurry and not bothered (or cared about) locking up.

  “Hello?” I called in quietly. I wanted the people inside (if there was anyone hiding away) to hear me but not anyone who may have been lurking within the trees behind me. “Anyone here?”

  No answer.

  I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

  With the light fading it was hard to see inside. There was no point trying the power as we had no power in our own home and yet I still found myself trying the switch. Nothing happened.

  I can’t stay here for long. I can only make it my home for the night. I need to find help and staying here will lead to nothing but eventual starvation...

  Starvation? Food?

  I hurried through to the kitchen using my hands to help guide me through the areas of the house which were darker than the last. Thankfully there was a large window in the kitchen which let in some of the remaining light. Enough to illuminate the room enough for me to see what I was doing anyway.

  There were boxes everywhere. Empty. The bin was overflowing with a foul stench lingering in the air. To be fair I noticed that when I first stepped into the house but I’m guessing it was here that the stink came from. Perhaps some of the contents had rotted away and were festering within the bin liner.

  I quickly rummaged through the cupboards but they were empty too. Some of them had some boxes but...Boxes without content are useless. I need food. More reason not to stay in this house past the night. As soon as the light comes up, in the morning, I’m leaving. No choice.

  I walked from the kitchen, once again using my hands to help guide me in the darker spots of the house, and started to look around. Before I settle in for the night, I need to be sure the place really is empty.

  Downstairs was a similar layout to my own home. There was a dining room, a lounge, a kitchen, a toilet and (unlike the home I had left behind) a small study which was filled with books.

  The stairs were in the same area as our own home too and I hurried up them to scour around upstairs. Upstairs consisted of a bathroom and a small bedroom with one final door on the right hand side of the landing. I’m guessing a master bedroom...

  I stepped in and gagged on the stench that hit me as soon as I did so. Immediately my eyes were drawn to where it was originating from. Not the bin in the kitchen after all. The bed. A couple (elderly) were cuddled up in bed. A man and woman in a bad state of decomposition.

  I didn’t need to look too closely to see how they died. The woman had a cut across her throat and the man had large cuts in his wrist. Not the most peaceful way of going but I guess it was their easiest option given the circumstances. The knife was close by to the man’s hand.

  I stepped from the room and closed the door.

  Tonight I’ll sleep in the smaller room.

  * * * * *

  Lying awake in the smaller room with my mind flitting between past and present, I can’t help but wonder whether my family should have chosen to do what this couple had clearly decided was the best course of action. I couldn’t help but wonder whether they had come to a cross-road whereby they had to make the same decisions my family had made (cannibalism) and just decided they couldn’t go through with it and - therefore - the best plan was to take their own life?

  But then, the woman had her throat cut. I wondered whether she even saw it coming or whether her partner (at least I presume they were partners) just did it out of the blue before taking his own life? Maybe he had made the decision for her? However it happened, it was certainly extreme...I let out a little laugh. Not because of the scene in the other room but because I believed their course of action to be extreme. Given everything my family (and I) have done since all of this began I don’t think I’m in the best position to start judging people.

  Something suddenly dawned on me. A thought popped into my head as though it had always been there (just well hidden). What if it’s the radiation? The man lost his mind and killed his partner (before turning the blade on himself) because of a strange radiation affecting his thought process. It wasn’t entirely impossible for such a thing to happen.

  And that would explain what happened with my own family too. It wasn’t the consumption of human meat that made us lose our minds and humanity. It was the strange effects of the fallout from the bomb. We hadn’t escaped the blast as we had believed. At least - not completely unharmed or unchanged.

  Those things out there too, roaming in the darkness...Clearly they’re human. What if they’re like my family and me? Perhaps that’s what we’re going to become. The more flesh we consume, the more we lose our humanity...We’re going to turn into those things. I saw the way they tore that woman apart. I saw the way they set about her and took her down. Driven by an insatiable hunger.

  Mother and Father had consumed more than Sister and I. Despite the love my sister and I felt (mistaken as lust to begin with) being wrong, we hadn’t really done anything else. Yes I killed a man but I did so thinking I was protecting my family. I didn’t really want to do it. Father, though, he killed the other people. He may not have wanted to kill that woman because he really wanted to do it. He may have genuinely done it believing it were the right thing to do (thanks to the radiation changing his thought process) but the third person who came by the house, and then the fourth...He was smiling when he killed them...And - even then - he didn’t kill them right away. He left them on the table, alive. He liked to hear them scream. So did Mother. At times, I thought Sister might have enjoyed it too but...The way she said a prayer, each time, before we ate...She was just acting...

  I sat up on the small bed with my heart in the back of my throat as images of Mother and Father tearing Sister apart, limb from limb, flashed through my mind.

  I can’t believe it took me so long to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The radiation was slowly turning us into monsters. To think I already thought we had lost our souls. I already thought we were demons but we’re not. Not yet. The final step could be close for Mother and Father, what with the taste for flesh they have, but I’m sure I can save Sister if I can get to her before they turn.

  I jumped from the bed and looked to the window. It was pitch black outside. There was no way I could make it back to them now. Even if I had a torch, to help me see through the woods, it would be too dangerous.

  I screamed a yell of frustration and rage and swung for the wall with a clenched fist. The pain was instant and I dropped to my knees cradling my hand. I shouldn’t have left her. I shouldn’t have left her with them. Not them. I should have known. I should have realised sooner. If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself...

  I’ll never forgive them.

  A New Day

  I had hardly slept a wink during the night. I was tired and hungry. Before leaving the house I searched around (fruitlessly) on the off-chance I could find something to eat but there was nothing in the house other than some crumbs in a couple of the boxes and I mean crumbs; not even big enough to pick up. Of course I tipped the near empty box into my hand and licked the tiny crumbs from my palm but it gave no nourishment, only a taste for food that I miss.

  I stopped in the kitchen and took a long drink from the tap. I’m still amazed that the water runs freely from the taps but I don’t care. I’m just grateful. I filled a bottle up, that I found in one of the cupboards, and did the lid up tightly. I had made the mistake of leaving the family home without any water and I had learnt from that mistake.

  I left the house determined to make it back to where my sister was and even more determined to bring her away from Mother and Father with me. I knew she’d kick up a fuss but I’d do my best to explain t
o her what was happening. Do my best to explain my theory about the poison we’ve been subjected to.

  Who knows - maybe Mother and Father would listen to me too? Maybe, if they stop what they’re doing now, they won’t change any further? Maybe there’s still a possibility for us to all leave together and find some help in the form of whatever camp we can find. And maybe there’s a chance that others in the camps (or towns or whatever) have been going through what we’ve been going through too? There could be a support group. There could be a way of cleansing our souls and claiming back the humanity we once shared.

  I shook my head. I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s a strong chance they won’t even believe me. There’s also the possibility that I’m already too late. They could have already turned. Not just mother and father but maybe Sister too. Maybe I’m wasting my time in going back for her (them). Maybe...