by Ian Woodhead
He would not be asking himself these questions if he had taken the time to dive into her thoughts instead of lashing out just because the woman hurt him. It wasn’t possible for a human not to eat, even Raphael knew that.
“You are wasting valuable time.” That was true, the more time he spent in here, the closer the newbirths got to his location. He spun around and scurried back towards the hole he had made in the ceiling. Raphael could always come back here once he had disposed of the newbirths. The old woman might not have eaten food, but he knew his girl would enjoy it in here. She had lost a lost of her memories, but hadn’t forgotten the joy of idly wandering up and down supermarket aisles.
Raphael paused just before he reached the hole. There had been no unexpected sound, but his mind-eye twitched. He was no longer alone. Raphael now detected two more humans on the other side of the building. They knew he was in here and were terrified. Their tumulus emotions confused him greatly. Why did they just not exit the building? Time was now fighting him, but Raphael could not allow this mystery to go unexplored.
He sent out his mind-eye and watched both men lying by the front entrance; thick rope bound their arms to the bodies. They wriggled like worms and were trying to cry out, but their noises were muffled behind cloth stuffed into their mouths.
Raphael pulled his mind-eye back. He suppressed the overwhelming desire to jump onto the ceiling and clamber across the surface to reach the two men. He scuttled to the end of the aisle then dropped to the floor and crawled on his stomach along the white tiles until he reached the corner of one of the checkouts.
He watched them though the gap, continuing to struggle with their bonds. Both men were too occupied with trying to free themselves to have heard his silent advance. When Raphael noticed a thick smear of wet blood just behind one of the men, he felt the pressure of the cold floor hard against his phallus. It took considerable control to stop him rising up, leaping over to checkout, and ripping into the pair if them.
His mind-eye had detected no other humans in the vicinity, and yet he knew they couldn’t have reached that position alone. Raphael frowned. After the earlier experience in the cellar when he recovered his girl, he knew some humans were able to avoid detection.
Could this be the case here? Raphael watched the two men continue to struggle against their bonds for another few moments. Of course it was the case, there were probably a group of humans, probably armed, waiting for him to jump on the bait.
Raphael stood up, he was not going to cower like a small mouse for any human, no matter how many there were. A hunter wasn’t scared of his food. The men’s eyes bulged in their sockets when they caught sight of Raphael. He leaped onto the checkout belt, keeping his gaze steady on the smaller human, watching in contentment as the human’s bladder gave way.
He pushed his mind-eye into the terrified human’s mind and saw five large humans, all carrying thick clubs, push the captives into the supermarket before running back outside. He looked over to the outer doors and guessed that they’d now be hiding behind the supermarket doors. Raphael giggled and wondered why he even entertained the ridiculous notion of trepidation. They were no threat to him.
The smaller human tried to roll away, his muffled shrieks was divine music to Raphael. He jumped from the checkout onto the wall directly above the pair. He then dropped between them, drooling in anticipation. He kept his attention on the doors while he wrapped his thick fingers around the small human’s ankle. The man’s mental screaming threatened to overload Raphael’s pleasure centre. Despite needing to squeeze until the human’s meat burst through the gaps in his fingers, he just kept a firm hold and watched the door slowly open through the corner of his eye.
Raphael smiled when he saw all the armed men quietly enter the building. It annoyed him that he was unable to read any of them, but he would just have to live with it, it is not as if they would be living for much longer. He waited until the lead human was within striking distance. Raphael watched the overconfident fool raise his club, then he jumped up and landed on the wall just above the door. Raphael kept hold of the man’s ankle. The human now hung upside down like a trussed up bat. Raphael swung the human into the armed assailants before letting go of his ankle.
He followed the dropped body down and jumped onto two of the fallen bodies. Raphael ignored the trussed up man, he decided to save him for dessert. He could crunch on him after he had taken care of the insects who dared to try to attack him.
Raphael opened up the first man’s stomach before biting out his windpipe. He had to die first, his shrieking was giving Raphael such a headache. The remaining man tried to make a bolt for it, but only reached the edge of the door before two of Raphael’s arms reeled him back. This time he didn’t give this one time to scream out. He squeezed his neck tight, feeling the tendons and muscle squash against his bones.
He giggled, so much meat and none of it inside a stupid tin. Raphael growled and lunged forward. His impending pleasure was suddenly halted when he felt a tearing pain passing through his left ankle. Looking down, he saw a thin wooden bolt buried deep into his flesh. Raphael gritted his teeth and turned, almost falling onto the mutilated bodies.
Three more men stood in front of the now open door, all armed with crossbows. He hobbled forward, no human had dared to oppose him. These arrogant bags of walking meat would learn to regret their arrogance. The man in front, wearing a clean suit, lifted his weapon and fired. Another bolt slammed into Raphael’s other leg.
Raphael howled with fury and prepared to jump. His movement died when he saw the other two had their weapons pointed at his face.
“You, my friend, are a most interesting specimen,” commented the suited man. “We’ve had not had anything like you in our fair city until now.” he reloaded the crossbow. “Considering the upset and damage you have caused me, perhaps that is a good thing, no? Well, it’s been a pleasure, you fucking weird cunt. Time to die.” The man aimed the weapon at Raphael’s heart.
Raphael looked into the man’s eyes. They were as dead as the shuffling dead things infesting the landscape. “You’re all going to die, human. My brothers have already reached the city, and they are very hungry.” He just needed for him a waver, to hesitate. The man did jump, but only because the man beside him dropped to the floor, crying out in agony, gazing in disbelief at the bolt stuck in his thigh. The other men dropped to their knees, widely swinging their weapons from side to side. Raphael felt the air by his ear shimmer and the other man fell face down.
“It’s time for you to leave, Mr Stone,” shouted a female voice. “I’d rather not kill you, but I will if you don’t fuck off right now.”
The man fled. Raphael watched a young woman emerge from the shadows. Raphael guessed that she was a lot younger than his girl. She was very beautiful. It did not surprise him to discover that he couldn’t read her mind either.
“I’m Allison,” she said, slowly approaching him. “I’ve already been assured that you won’t attack me. Even so, I’d like you to tell me that in person.”
Raphael shrugged. This was very confusing. All he desired was to go back to his girl, give her food, and prepare for the onslaught. “I have all the food I need,” he said.
The girl sighed. She walked to the two fallen men and pulled the bolts out of their flesh. “I never once believed that more of my kind still lived on the mainland.” She turned and gazed at Raphael. I’ve been sent here to help you deal with the newbirths.”
He paused from pulling the bolts out of his leg. Raphael looked her over and smiled, wondering just how flexible this new female was. He spun around so she would not see his phallus rising.
Chapter Fourteen
Were those two men still holding him? Peter drew in a deep breath, tasting bad meat and sawdust. His eyes snapped open and found that their was still very little light, but he was no longer in that market, it looked as thought he was now in a cellar. He caught his breath at the sight of a well built man standing a couple of feet in front of
him, hunched over a table.
“What’s going on, where am I?” No matter how much he struggled, Peter couldn’t move his arms or legs. “What the fuck?” He’d been tied to a metal pole. He suddenly stopped his struggles when he saw the dark stains on that table. That was blood, a lot of it. He thought the stench of rotting meat was coming from that table; he discovered that smell of death had soaked into everything in here.
“So, you’ve have finally woken up,” muttered the man. “It took you long enough. I’d better introduce myself.” He turned around and Peter saw the huge cleaver in the big man’s hand. “My name is Stephen, and as you can see from the vast array of shiny instruments laid out on my table, I’m a butcher. My job is to joint you.”
The bonds held him tight, there was no give at all. Peter watched the man drop the cleaver on the table and slide his shiny fingers along his instrument until his digits curled around a bonesaw.
“Looking back, my mistake was to let the army guy leave here, still breathing. Okay, so the monster took him, but I think I might have gotten away with letting the monster have Rob instead.”
The man pinched Peter’s arm. “Just like you, the soldier boy had plenty of flesh wrapping his bones. Those dickheads at the market thought you were a seller. I reckon you’re somewhere a bit farther than that. That makes it okay to give bits of you to Mr Stone. I lost my other parcels, you see.”
Peter reared back as the man got even closer, He struggled with the ropes, but it got him nowhere. This fucker was going to cut him up.
The man laughed. “There’s no point trying to free yourself, I’m good with knots, very good. You might as well just give up and let me get on with this. You know, I think that I’ll get more than just a few strawberries for you.”
Peter gasped as the vile smelling man picked up the cleaver and walked up to him. “Wait!” he shouted. “Look, can I at least have a last request before you cut me open? Come on, it’s the least you can do.”
The big man paused. “I’m not sure, I thought only criminals did all that.”
“Come on, I’ve already worked out that you were some kind of butcher before the outbreak. I bet you were a bloody good one as well.” Jesus, how the fuck was he going to stop this maniac from killing him? “Look man. Okay, I know you have your job to do and I accept that. I also accept that I’m going to die here. Now, I’m guessing I’m your first human?”
The man nodded, happily. “Yeah, but not the last one, I can tell you. I’m shocked, I really am; why did I not think of this idea before?” He leaned forward “Are there any more of you people?”
Peter shook his head. “There were going to be another two dozen dropping in, but I couldn’t reach the radio.” He sighed. “I ended up tied to this fucking pole instead.”
“That’s so sad. Okay, last request is what?”
That wasn’t how the fat bastard was supposed to react! “Untie me!” he screamed.
The butcher jumped back. He then looked up towards the floorboards. “Oh, that was so not funny. Now look what you’ve done. You’ve woken up my wife. As soon as she finds out about you, she’ll be furious. I’ll never be able to calm her down.”
Oh, Jesus, there was somebody else in here? “Help me!” he shrieked. “Please, stop him from killing me!”
The man roared and charged, he raised the cleaver above his head. Peter shifted his head at the last moment and the blade slammed into the wood behind him. Peter jerked his head forward and fastened his teeth on the big man’s forearm and closed his jaws, feeling the butcher’s warm blood fill his mouth.
It was the butcher’s turn to scream out. Peter released him and bit the man on the throat as he leaned forward. Peter growled and pulled his head back, ripping away a chunk of the butcher’s flesh. He staggered back, clutching the gaping wound on the side of his neck; he bumped into the table and fell to the floor.
Peter spat the meat out and turned his head to the side and emptied the contents of his stomach across the filthy floor. “Oh fuck,” he gasped, gazing over at the still man. “I don’t believe it, I’ve just murdered him.” He looked at the floorboards above him and watched the dust fall as whoever was on the next level moved from side to side.
Somehow, if it was the man’s wife, he didn’t think she’d be too happy about him killing the man. He looked at his reflection in the cleaver and didn’t recognise the terrified dishevelled man staring back at him. Peter craned his neck and tried to see how that bastard had tied his arms to this pole. The butcher had trussed him up good and proper.
How was he going to get out of this fucking mess? It was so tempting to shout out and hope the man’s wife would have mercy and cut him down. “You mean after she saw what you did to her hubby?” he laughed shakily. “Get real; as soon as the woman sees your bloodied mouth, she’ll bury that cleaver in your forehead.”
He started to shake and mumble in terror as the shapeless corpse on the floor began to move. “No, no way” That’s just not possible. I’m not infected!”
Peter frantically strained at the bonds, watching in panic as the dead butcher’s limbs jerked spasmodically. “Please be just death throes; oh God, I don’t want to be eaten.” The corpse quietly moaned. Peter’s bowels loosened, he knew that this thing was about to reanimate. His bonds were still tight but his sweat had allowed him to move his arms a fraction of an inch down the smooth metal pole. He violently twisted his body to the side, muffling his screams as he felt something inside him stretch and tear. That cleaver was now resting against his cheek.
The dead thing had lifted up its legs. Peter jerked his arms down another couple of inches until the rope was tight against the blade. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he felt the muscles in his shoulders scream in agony. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and pulled his arms down again; this time Peter couldn’t help but cry out as the blade cut through the threads and both his arms fell to his side. The sudden movement overbalanced him and he fell face down onto the filthy floor, his next to useless arms failed to protect his face as his nose cracked against the gore-stained floorboards.
He tried to roll away from the dead butcher, not understanding why his feet weren’t moving. Peter struggled to sit up and moaned when he saw that his feet were still tied to the pole. He sensed the dead butcher attempting to get up. Peter shuffled up to the pole and tried to lift up his arms, gritting his teeth as the complaining muscles struggled to obey his mental commands. Peter’s hands gripped the smooth pole and he managed to pull his aching body up.
Peter heard the dead thing struggle to his feet and gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He moaned when he realised what he’d just done, he remembered that those things were like sharks when it came to detecting fresh blood. The dead thing’s excited noises increased. and he heard it shuffle towards him.
The cleaver was right there, just above his head. Peter got his hands around the shaft and used the last of his strength to prise it out of the wood. He cried out as he fell back to the floor, still holding the weapon in his now useless arms. Peter landed between the dead butcher’s feet.
The dead man slowly dropped to his knees, drooling and moaning. Its hands reached down and began to tug at Peter’s loose clothing.
“Get the fuck off me, you filthy bastard!” he cried. Peter brought the cleaver up and slammed the blade into the back of the thing’s head. The momentum carried it forward and the dead butcher fell forward, its face slamming into Peter’s groin.
He screamed and sobbed. Peter didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He placed his head against the floorboard and closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the multitude of aches and pains flooding through his tortured body. “You’re safe at the moment, Peter,” he mumbled.
Peter opened his eyes and pulled the cleaver out of the butcher’s head, and he rolled the body off him and cut the last of his bonds. He felt as though he’d been hit by a truck at high speed. He leaned against the wooden table, listening to the noises coming from th
e floor above him. The way he now felt, Peter didn’t really care if his wife came down those stairs and saw what had happened to her husband. If she gave him any trouble well, he looked at the cleaver; he wouldn’t have a problem with putting her down as well.
He had lost his wife, the only woman that he’d ever cared for. Peter saw something in the corner glint in the low light. He choked back a hysterical giggle when he noticed a box full of rings and necklaces. Peter guessed that was what the maniac butcher must have taken from his victims before chopping them up. “Why did you keep them?” he asked the corpse. “Just what fucking use were they to you?”
Peter sighed heavily, “Oh fuck, I should have let you kill me.” He grabbed the banister and slowly made his way up the stairs. He glanced back, knowing just how close he’d been to dying down there. He thought of all his comrades, dreaming of all that wealth, believing that their superior firepower and gung ho spirit would be enough to protect them when they landed. “I need to tell them not to bother. The local wildlife will slaughter the poor naïve fuckers.”
He reached the door and gripped the handle tight. Peter was still prepared to kill the butcher’s wife if she did try to make trouble. His arms still ached, but he knew that if she pushed him, Peter would be able to find enough strength to drive this blade into her.
Peter opened the door and stared in disbelief at the ragged dead female chained to the wall. “Why does this not fucking surprise me?” The dead woman lunged forward until the thick chain around her neck snapped her back. “I’ve just murdered your husband, miss,” he announced. Peter took a couple of steps towards the moaning creature, watching it strain at the chain, desperately trying to reach him. “Your husband really did have a fetish for tying up people.” He raised the cleaver above his head and brought it down hard, burying the blade in her skull.
