by Ian Woodhead
There were no boats on this side, Raphael had already noticed that when he had explored that area of the city, a few days ago. “I can pick you up at my own leisure.” He pulled his mind-eye pick after fixing the human’s location, noticing more movement in the buildings close by his escaped food. At first he assumed it was just wildlife; he had already seen plenty of dogs and cats, even a couple of cows close by the river.
He grinned as his mind-eye picked up the unmistakable signatures of more warm human bodies as he flew through the city. So, there were more human’s here after all. They knew how to disguise themselves and were almost invisible to the corpses hunting them. Now that he had detected them, Raphael could easily pick them out. It appeared that his playground had just yielded yet another surprise.
Raphael stood up, happy to see that his limb, although was still weak, was now at least functional. It wouldn’t be strong enough to help him wall-climb; that would take a little longer.
“I’m coming for you, human. You won’t escape from my grasp a second time.” He hurtled down the rest of the stairs and ran through the building, laughing and screaming. His laughter only increased in volume when he burst out into the bright sunlight and saw three dead things fall back, dropping what remained of the foot and shambling away in the opposite direction. Raphael didn’t even bother to stop to kill them, he had more important prey to hunt.
He raced along the wide road, leaping onto overturned vehicles when he found his way blocked. Even without the advantage of climbing the buildings, Raphael was still able to shorten the distance between him and his food. It was tempting to stop to see how the human was coping with the fact that he wouldn’t be able to escape from the city quite as easily as he imagined, but Raphael did not with to get side-tracked.
He passed the spot where his mind-eye had picked up the signature of the other humans. Raphael suspected that if he stopped his pursuit, he just would not be able to resist the urge to hunt them down instead.
Even without using his mind-eye, Raphael could feel dozens of pairs of eyes hidden in the buildings around him. They saw him, and although they had never seen his kind before, they knew what he meant for their continued survival. Just like the corpses, they feared him. He started to laugh again. Raphael had found his true home. He was going to be so happy in his new playground. The food in this city would be able to keep him going for a long time.
He skidded to a halt and looked into the sky. He could leave the natives where they were, safe in the knowledge that they would be going nowhere, and he could pick them off at any time. There would be more food appearing very soon. If his quarry was right, the sky will soon be black with human’s metal birds. Like the three already here, their over confidence will be their undoing.
The only thing that would spoil his newfound freedom was if his siblings or his pregnant mother decided to seek him out. Raphael climbed up a lamppost and jumped onto a restaurant balcony. He climbed onto a large table and sat down. He had not considered that possibility until now, assuming that they’d stay where they were. Raphael could not allow any of them to enter his playground. This was his territory and he would defend it.
He gazed down at his body. His muscles had benefited from the extra protein and the vigorous exercise. If he continued consuming the new food, then in another few days Raphael would be able to take any of his siblings. He would no longer be the runt. He might even be able to fight his mother.
That thought did please Raphael. He’d so like to do that. If she died, then those abominations would die as well. Then he would be able to live in peace without fear or worry that one day his new siblings would defeat him.
“You don’t have to kill her straight away,” he murmured, seeing his phallus expand again. That was very true, if he grew larger that the first-born, his mother would not be able to kill him. He would be able to copulate with his mother before killing her and those vile things growing in her stomach. At that pleasing image, he jumped off the table and scuttled over to the balcony’s edge. He turned around and recklessly jumped across to the next balcony, laughing and giggling when he found his nearly healed limb operating just as efficiently as the rest of his other limbs.
Chapter Five
“At the risk of sounding trite,” sighed Stephen Morris. “I think you’re still the most talented butcher in town.” He smiled at his reflection, pleased that his mirror image returned the smile. Stephen carefully folded up the joint in the newspaper and placed it on the pile next to the other ones.
His customers may have changed since the rising and he no longer accepted money, but that should not affect his shop’s excellent customer service.
“Mr Stone will be so pleased when he sees these.” Stephen wrapped up the last piece of meat, taking care to ensure that the tail would not poke a hole through the now damp newspaper. There was a good chance that he may even swap some of those wonderful strawberries for these packages. Good lord, just how fantastic would that be? It had been a full year since he had tasted a fresh strawberry. The price would be high, but Stephen didn’t mind. There were still plenty of rats, dogs and cats scurrying through the city. It wouldn’t take Stephen too long to rebuild his supply.
Mr Stone’s organisation ruled what remained of England’s capital city. Unlike the rest of the surviving population, he still lived above ground. Even if the bad tempered old bastard was safely up at the top of that skyscraper and the climbers and hunters had gone, it still took guts to live so close to the dead.
“We all live so close to the dead,” he muttered. “He’s not so special.” Stephen didn’t bother answering his reflection. In truth, Stephen was a little in awe of Mr Stone, and he wasn’t the only one either. Most of the clan treated him like royalty. The others, unlike him, had reason to. Mr Stone had enough food secreted with him in his personal fortress to feed an army for years. While the others had to make do with what little tinned food that was left in the looted shops and supermarkets, the man dined like a king every night.
The only ingredient missing from Mr Stone’s dining table was fresh meat,
Stephen had no problem with doing a bit of bowing and scraping in order to receive a small portion of fresh strawberries. He didn’t regard it as acting servile, just excellent customer service.
Stephen picked up his metal bucket full of the cut off bits that he knew his top customer didn’t want, and carried it over to the side of his workshop. None of it would go to waste. Once he removed most of the bones and fur, Stephen would mince up what was left and mix it with some flour and a few spices.
His other customers went wild for his meat cubes. That reminded him, he’d have to go on another foraging trip. Stephen’s flour supply needed replacing. The last time he placed in fingers in there, something tried to bite him.
“I could use sawdust again.” Stephen crouched down and thrust his hand in the bucket. He picked out a small leg, wiped off the lumps of jellied offal sticking to the white fur and dropped it onto his chopping board. He had already decided against the sawdust option the last time when two of his regulars ended up falling ill. Stephen wasn’t completely convinced that his fare was to blame, but he couldn’t take the risk again. His customers dying may damage his business. “Service first,” he muttered, reaching for his favourite cleaver. He lifted the implement off the wall hook and gazed at the middle-aged man staring back at him in the metal surface. “Without customers, you’ll be just like the rest of them.”
Stephen would just have to get some more flour, it was that simple. This time though, he would find it himself instead of relying on them to get the stuff for him. He carefully sliced off the fur and discarded it, then cut what little meat he could from the bone. The work would keep him busy for the next few hours. Stephen plunged his hand into the bucket, this time his fingers found something not organic. He pulled out a dog collar. I’m getting sloppy in my old age. He threw that across the room then stopped. Stephen looked up at the wooden rafters, watching dust drift down. It seeme
d that his wife was stirring. He sighed heavily. The woman would probably want her dinner. He had hoped to have this finished before feeding Janet.
His duties as a husband came first. His meat cube making could wait for a few more minutes. Stephen gathered up the parcels then walked over to the door. There was no way that he was going to leave these unattended. He didn’t know what he’d do if he came back, only to find the local vermin had eaten their way through his precious gifts. Mr Stone would be furious with him.
As he climbed the stairs, he noticed that in his haste he had covered the newspaper with blobs of crimson gore from his thick fingers.
“Shit,” he cursed. These packages would need re-rewrapping now. That was so annoying; his supply of dry newspaper was running dangerously low as well. He reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the door with his back. He turned and smiled at his wife. The woman was indeed moving about.
“Good morning, Janet. I hope you slept well.” His wife didn’t respond, her eyes were fixed on the packages. “No, sweetheart, these are not for you.” He hurried over to his worktable and placed the packages on the surface. Stephen had better wash his hands before he went anywhere near his wife. The last thing he needed right now was her to get too excited.
Stephen was feeling rather frisky himself. He put that down to the prospect of tasting those delectable strawberries. “Janet, what do you say to a quickie?”
His wife strained on her metal chain and collar. She raised her arms and emitted a low, mournful groan.”
“Yes dear, I get the message, you’re hungry.” He walked over to her, ensuring he kept out of reach of her grasping hands. “Oh, bloody hell,” he exclaimed, when he saw the state of her hands. “What have I told you about taking your mittens off?” It looks like his nookie time would have to wait. There was no way he could go near her without the woollen mittens protecting his tender skin from her ragged nails.
He felt somewhat deflated now. “You know, I’ve a good mind not to feed you now, Janet.” He watched her pulled against her chain. “Yeah, I thought you wouldn’t like that,” he said, nodding.” Her mittens were by Janet’s bare feet, and from where he stood, Stephen noticed one of her fingernails entangled in the wool. “Back before you turned, Janet, you would have gone mental if one of your nails broke. Maybe it’s time you started looking after yourself a little better.”
Stephen spun around and walked over to his armchair, grinning when her plaintive moans reached his ears. At the last moment, he abruptly changed direction and hurried towards the meat bin. “Come on, Janet, did you honestly thought that I’d let you go without breakfast?” He prised open the lid and picked out a three-day-old rat’s head. He wriggled his nose. His bin would need cleaning out soon; the smell in there was getting a bit ripe. He threw the piece over, watching it bounce off her left breast and roll between her feet.
“I’m sorry, Janet,” he said, watching her slowly stoop. “I’m can’t give you it in person today, not with all this stuff coating my hands.” Stephen watched her grab her meal and force the whole piece into her mouth. There had to be a more efficient method of keeping Janet’s hands covered up while he fucked her. Her head had been a doddle. All he needed to keep those teeth of hers tearing out his throat was a carrier bag and some string or a belt to hold it in place. He had considered pulling out her teeth but he didn’t want to spoil her looks.
He looked across at the large mirror behind his armchair. “Do you have any ideas?” His reflection looked as puzzled about it as he did. Stephen sighed; he picked up the meat parcels and wandered over to the door, leading to his workshop. Maybe something would come to him while he was preparing the meat-cubes. His mind was always more lucid while he kept his hands busy.
The parcels tumbled through his arms when Stephen heard somebody frantically banging on the steel door that led into the sewer complex. He gazed in dismay at the pieces of meat spilling out of the damp newspaper and scattered across the filthy floor. He turned his head and growled in annoyance. Whoever the fuck that was, they were about to receive a severe tongue-lashing. Stephen gathered up the meat and dropped the mess on the table.
The sudden odour rising from the flesh had sent his wife into a frenzy of excited groaning. “You can shut the fuck up, Janet. You know this isn’t for you.” Stephen pulled a piece of blood soaked off a lump of meat, wincing at the sight of all the grit and dirt sticking to his present. He should be able to wash most of it off, but it would mean breaking open another bottle of water from his rapidly diminishing supply.
“My supply list will be as long as my arm at this rate,” he said, sighing. He heard another frantic staccato of beating upon his door. “Stop fucking doing that” he screamed. Fuck his commitment to service; whoever was out there would receive more than just a few insulting words. He picked up his nail studded cricket bat and marched through the hideaway.
It had to be one of his customers; he guessed that it would be Tom. That fucking shit was always banging on his door, pleading for a little food. He was getting annoying now. On his last visit, Stephen had given the dirty bastard a rotting cat’s head from out of Janet’s meat bin. He’d hoped the stinking gift would have put him off. “The door banged again. “Obviously not,” growled Stephen.
He gripped the bat in his left hand then unbolted the door and pulled the handle. He wasn’t expecting whoever was on the other side to push the door into his face. Stephen fell back; the bat flew from his hands. He cried out when the back of his head crashed into the concrete floor. Stephen scrambled back until he reached the wall. He looked up at the two figures standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry, Stephen. He made me come here. I didn’t mean to…”
He heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
“Shut the fuck up,” growled a strange voice.
Stephen opened his eyes and saw a dark skinned man dressed in an army uniform glaring down at him. He had no idea who he was. That notion scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t seen a stranger in London for over two years. “Who are you?”
The man ignored him. He picked up Stephen’s bat and ran his fingers over the nails hammered into the top of the bat. “It’s a good job I did push the door into you. I’m not sure I’d like this hitting me.” The man crouched down. “This piece of human sewage tells me that you know how to get out of the city. I hope for both your sakes that he’s not lying to me.”
The man abruptly took his piercing gaze off Stephen and looked over to the open door leading to the other room. “What the fuck is that noise? Is there somebody else in here with you?”
“It’s just my wife,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know anything. Please don’t go in there, you’ll only upset her.”
The man stood up and looked over at Tom. “You said he lived alone.” He walked over to the door.
“Please!” cried Stephen. “Don’t hurt her. I can show you how to get out, just don’t harm my Janet.” He got to his feet, ran over to the man, and tried to pull him away. He received a vicious push backwards for his trouble.
“What the fuck?” gasped the man. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”
Stephen looked over at Tom, cowering in the corner, and then he leaped on the stranger. “You’re upsetting my wife,” he growled. The momentum carried the man closer to Janet. She moaned out in exhilaration and rushed towards them, reaching her arms out. The man screamed in fright, dropped to his knees, and tried to pull Stephen off.
He swung his fist into the side of the man’s head before climbing off his back. Stephen kicked him in the stomach, then grabbed his legs and pulled him away from Janet’s reach. “I ought to let my wife sort you out,” he snarled. How dare you come into my home and order me about.” He grabbed his bat and pointed the business end at the stranger. “I’m trying to run a business here; I don’t want you sort of people barging into my shop and ruining my fucking reputation.”
The man looked back at Janet then shakily got to his feet. “You’re fuckin
g insane!” He edged over to the open door.
Stephen shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. It’s time for you to fuck off.”
He waited for the man to run through the doorway before he ran over and bolted the door. “Where the fuck did he come from, Tom?”
The other man moved away from the wall; Stephen watched him greedily eying up the meat that Stephen had left on the table.
“Tom, I need you to answer me.” He looked over to his wife still straining at her chains. “Janet is so upset that I didn’t let her feed on that man. Would you like me to give your skinny carcass to her?”
The man cringed. “I don’t know, Stephen, honestly I don’t. The bastard jumped me while I was above ground.” The boy then nervously ran his tongue over his lips. “It gets worse.” He looked into Stephen’s eyes. “Do you remember those rumours about that strange hunter?”
Stephen nodded, he’d already discarded those stories as drunken ramblings.
“Well, it’s really true. I saw it with my own eyes. It’s got four legs and can climb up walls.”
“Bullshit.”
Tom shivered. “I swear to god that I’m telling you the truth. Oh, it’s fucking horrible. We are all so fucked!”
“Suddenly, my life has become complicated.” He gave the bat to Tom. “I’d better report this to Mr Stone, although I’ll leave out the extra legs bit. Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”
Tom closed his eyes and sank to the floor. “This is the end of everything. I just know it is.”
Stephen crouched down and lay the bat by the boy’s feet. “Stop being so dramatic. The end came and went. Now you listen to me. From now on, if you come across anyone who isn’t local, you kill them, do you understand?”
