The Survivor
by Ursula K Raphael
© 2011 by Ursula K Raphael
Kindle Edition
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DEDICATION
For my son, Gideon, the little hawk that guides & inspires me…
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thanks to everyone who let me be a part of their creative processes over the past few years, especially the horror authors who have warped my mind forever. After this little test-drive in your shoes, I have even more respect for your ability to put yourselves & your hard work out there again and again.
I would much rather fight zombies.
The Survivor
By Ursula K. Raphael
I’m the survivor of an apocalypse. I’m not sure what happened, if it was just one specific thing or not; hell, I don’t even know when “it” happened. I just woke up one day to every man, woman and child attacking every other man, woman and child, and my suburban neighborhood looked worse than a war zone in a newscast from the Middle East. Society is a concept that simply does not exist anymore. I’m pretty sure that when rampant cannibalism is the norm, the end of the world as we knew it is official. I’m assuming the rest of the world is experiencing the same thing because the stuff I’ve seen is too bad to be ignored or quarantined.
There are other Survivors like me - survivors of the pestilence that plagues us all, and...others. Most Survivors seem to think staying in a group increases their chances of finding food, but I think it attracts the wrong attention. Like Them. They could be on you before you even see or hear Them, and I think they might be stronger than us. I don’t know anything for sure, just what I’ve observed from a safe distance. They move at different speeds, which make Them even more unpredictable. Sometimes I see Them moving in and out of abandoned buildings too, like they’re remembering what life used to be like. They seem to lack any real thinking skills. I just don’t see how we can survive long-term in a world populated with Them.
As if that isn’t bad enough, there are the Sadists who enjoy torturing both us and Them, killing for fun instead of survival. That’s who I’m hiding from now. I saw the bastards capture another female Survivor. They tied her up, gagged her, and then took turns raping her. I guess they’re afraid of making apocalypse babies - not wanting to be responsible for anyone but themselves, or maybe they didn’t want someone else’s junk on them because they all used condoms. That little bit of courtesy seemed so perversely out of place compared to the various forms of cruelty they visited on the woman. When they were finished, they beat her until there was nothing but a gooey pulp left. Ironic how little some things change.
They also had a few females from Them. They were treated the same way, but they didn’t have to endure if for nearly as long because a large group of Survivors showed up, and tried to overwhelm the Sadists. They didn’t seem to have a plan, but they killed enough of the Sadists to scare the rest away. I don’t know if the female captives joined their group or not, but I didn’t see them tied up anymore. I waited for...I don’t know how long; I can’t keep track of time anymore. I waited until I thought it was safe to move. I walked over to the area I was watching, and searched for any scraps of food that may have been left behind. I found a little, but it didn’t taste very good. I decided to go back to searching the houses.
I’ve always been a loner, and I’m too afraid of being captured, tortured or killed to stay with any group, so I’ve been trying to stay out of sight...which means I’m starving every day, in pain every day, but I’m still here, so God must have something special planned for me. Yes, even now I still believe in God. Sometimes I think faith is the only human quality that I have left. I was once told that He never gives you more than you can handle; well, I wish He would stop having such a high opinion of what I can handle because the world is FUBAR. I have no idea what His “plan” could be at this point. Maybe He never had one. I always thought religion was a crutch for people who didn’t want to face reality, but maybe reality is a crutch for people who don’t want to face God. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking reality and God are just man-made distractions…and since I need to find something to eat before what’s left of me fades away, I don’t feel like wasting any more time thinking about theology.
Ideally, I try to search houses that don’t look all smashed up, but those ones are the hardest to break into, and I feel weaker every day that goes by. I saw myself in a mirror the other day, and I looked like shit. My hair is falling out in patches; I could be mistaken for road kill if I lay down – hard to tell if it’s all from malnutrition or if I’m sick. Who knows what diseases there could be from the debris, rotting corpses, and Them? I always know when they’re around because they stink so damn bad. Imagine a person who hasn’t bathed in months, but has been sweating every day, and then coat that person in crap – it still wouldn’t smell as bad as Them. Sometimes I’ve been close enough to see Them clearly when some of the other Survivors are fighting Them, but the scent didn’t seem as strong. I’m worried that I’m losing my sense of smell among other things. My sight doesn’t seem to be very good lately either, but, again, between not having enough to eat and all the smoke hanging in the air, it’s no wonder I’m having problems.
At least my hearing hasn’t faded. Depending on which sound I hear – screaming, moaning or gunshots – I can plan accordingly: run, hide or kill. In the case of the Sadists, run AND hide. I don’t care to be mutilated or violated. There was a time when I would have thought I was on top of the food chain, but with those sick bastards, anyone is game. This is their world now. They were the first ones to realize that the social contract is null and void. The state of nature has returned. The truth is, the Sadists never gave a shit about laws or morals, so when the pretense of being in control of this world fell away, the Sadists were in their element. Reminds me of that saying, “The lunatics are now in control of the asylum.” Maybe one day, when they run out of ammunition, I’ll find out what crazy tastes like.
Now, Them…I think they would eat me if they could catch me, which is ironic because I would eat Them if I could catch Them, but I don’t have the strength to give chase, or to defend myself if I was outnumbered. I wouldn’t feel bad about killing one of Them; it’s their fault the world went to shit…spreading their disease. Just sacks of flesh with no real purpose than to wander the earth, devouring everything with their single-mindedness. It’s tempting to think that they’re capable of working together, but it’s just a farce. They don’t understand why they’re drawn together, anymore than I do. No shepherd for that flock; just a bunch of sheep.
I don’t have to worry about the other Survivors at all; the few times I’ve crossed paths with them, they don’t pay me any attention, so I just keep to myself. Sometimes I follow them, just in case they find food, but they rarely leave any leftovers. I don’t know what would happen if I fought them for food, and I don’t want any nasty surprises. Every great once in a while, they turn on each other. I clear the area when that happens; I may be desperate, but I’m not stupid. Who knows when they might take notice of me after all?
I think what bothers me more than anything, aside from starving, is that I haven’t seen any wild animals, and only a few pets. If it wasn’t for the occasional domestic cat, I would have gone weeks, rather than days without any food. Those bells on their collars meant to save birds’ lives make them easy marks.
The little shits might be good at hiding, but I can pinpoint one of those bells like a bat with sonar. Dogs, on the other hand, avoid me like the plague – no pun intended. Those bitches seem to be able to sense me before I even realize there’s a dog nearby. Even if they have a collar with tags, the sound is always moving away from me. Aside from the cats and dogs, one would never guess how many damn rodents we use to have running around: squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits and rats. There’s not even a trace of deer scat anywhere. Used to be so many deer around here, most car accidents were collisions with them darting from the side of the road.
Today was a fucking waste of energy; the houses have been picked over, and there were no cats to be found. My stomach is gnawing at me so bad that it feels like it’s eating its way up my esophagus. I’ve decided the next time I see some Sadists I’m not going to hide or run. Getting shot can’t hurt much worse than starvation; I just need to make sure I don’t get captured. I’m already using all my strength to keep my shit together, such as it is, and I don’t think I have the mental fortitude to go a round with the Deliverance boys. As a matter of fact, the idea of making one of them squeal like a pig is very tempting. They haven’t struck me as smart, so the fact that I’m still capable of stringing my thoughts together gives me a slight edge.
I could go after some other Survivors or Them, but it’s more complicated. I feel like Survivors have earned the right to be here, after all the shit they’ve been through…but Them – the fact that they’ve lasted this long truly frightens me, to be honest. They should have wasted away by now, but I still see Them crawling around like big fucking cockroaches. I’ve seen Them emerge from the basements and attics of boarded-up houses, from vehicles like buses and RVs – I’ve even seen them on the rooftops! I shudder when I think of one of Them dropping onto me from above. I can’t be bothered with complicated; the Sadists are much more predictable.
I didn’t want to weaken myself further by wandering around, searching for one of their groups, so I tried to think of where they would most likely camp for the night. The answer came to me easier than I expected: the Sadists would need water. We had a river near our city; I just needed to figure out their most likely location on the river. They’d need clearance for the trucks they were so fond of driving, so that narrowed it down to two spots for the particular group I saw earlier today. I rested for a moment, trying to picture those assholes in my mind. They were drunk a lot. I doubt they take turns getting wasted, so they would need a secure place to pass out.
A part of my past crept up on me unexpectedly; my mind wanders a lot these days. It was just a fragment of a memory, but it was strong enough to banish my hunger for a few peaceful moments. I remembered walking along a nature trail at night, with a full moon lighting my path; the nature trail not only ran alongside the river, but it passed a staging area near some houses. I sat up suddenly, the familiar pain flooding back into my stomach, radiating into the rest of my body. A plan emerged from the fog of my thoughts: make my way to the staging area, search for signs of the Sadists at one of the houses, and then eat. Seems simple enough, but there will be no moonlight or stars to guide me; the blackened haze still covers us like a death shroud.
Ah, but the river! I listened for the familiar rushing, approached the white waters cautiously, and shadowed the bank like a rat trailing the pied piper. I worried about which way to go when I reached the river, but I could hear the Sadists. From the sounds, I suspected they were entertaining “guests.” I began to have doubts about my meal plan. I didn’t want to be found by a scout or lookout, before I could close in on their camp. I listened to grunting and screaming, cheering and sobbing, as I crept along the riverbank, and then I froze in my tracks. I was used to sounds of suffering whenever the Sadists were nearby, but something new, yet oddly familiar caught my attention. I strained to filter through all the various noises coming from the camp. There it was again: a child’s voice.
Until that moment, I never thought to compare myself to an animal, despite the wretched life I had been reduced to, eating cats and scavenging for scraps. It never occurred to me how basic I had become. I was a hunter, even if I wasn’t a very good one. I was a predator, even if I still feared being prey. Even as I hid in the darkness at the edge of the camp, I had only been thinking of my next meal. Until, the moment I heard the boy cry out for his mother…suddenly, I was the most vicious beast that ever walked the earth. I would not be satisfied until I was drenched in the blood of my prey. I became Mother Nature’s revenge, and the almighty top of the food chain with just one word…“mama.” That was my name, once upon a time; I’d forgotten a lot of things, but not the quickening in my womb, and I felt the dim spark of life blaze into a firestorm of rage.
As much as I wanted to rush into the camp, and tear their throats out with my teeth, I still retained some self-control. It was one of the things that set me apart from the Sadists, the other Survivors and Them. I could ignore the twisting, searing pain in my stomach a little longer, knowing I would finally have enough to eat tonight. I scanned the area, as I circled around the fringe, sorting out the events unfolding before me. Some of Them must have come to the river for water, and stumbled into one or more of the Sadist lookouts. There were also some Survivors chained up to the back of a truck. Judging by the looks of them, they had been kept that way for a while. I searched the gloom beyond me, in the opposite direction of the camp, wondering if anyone or anything else could hear the noise. I didn’t want to be caught off guard.
Satisfied that I wouldn’t be the victim of a sneak-attack, or a lack of caution, I stalked back around the edge of the camp to my original position. I mentally tagged each person as a Sadist, Survivor or one of Them, deciding who would be the biggest threat, and who would die first. There was nothing I could do about the ones who were chained, but I noted how much length they had to move. While I surveyed every detail of the site, I reluctantly decided I would have to thin the herd one at a time, and hope I wouldn’t have any trouble from Them. I was likely to be targeted with gunfire, but if I stayed within the shadows of the tree line, no one would have a clear shot at me.
As I waited for an opportunity to present itself, I bore witness to the extent of their cruel behavior. I saw a few Sadists backing away from a young female; as her guts spilled out from between her legs, I couldn’t tell if she had been a Survivor or one of Them. She reached for one of the men who had been raping her, and another one stepped forward, jamming a beer bottle into her eye socket. She dropped to the ground, and continued to twitch with the spout of the bottle stuck in her head. The Sadists stood over her laughing; one of them finally stomped on her head, putting her out of her misery. I heard the bottle crack inside her skull. I memorized the faces of her assailants, planning to rip their genitals from their bodies, and let them bleed out.
Two of them turned around, and staggered in my direction. Time for a piss. I backed up a little more, and focused on their shoes. I didn’t want any reflection in my eyes to give me away; not yet. I crouched as low as I could, and launched myself forward as soon as one of them unzipped his fly. I felt the limp penis slide along my tongue, and I gnashed my teeth down, when my lips touched the fabric of his pants. Ignoring the screaming and cursing, I let the penis flop out of my mouth. The other Sadist had jumped backwards at the sight of me, and fell on his ass. I lunged at his crotch, and succeeded at sinking my teeth past the barrier of his pants. I felt the first barrage of bullets whiz overhead, shattering the bark of the surrounding trees.
Keeping my jaws locked, I dragged the Sadist away from the edge of the camp, shaking my head violently to inflict as much damage as possible. He sounded a lot like a dying cat. Hearing multiple voices rising in volume, I let go, and darted through the trees. I felt a few bullets pelt into my backside, but I kept running as fast as I could. The Sadists weren’t thinking very clearly, and they all ran for the same spot, where I left the two rapists to die in their own blood. Some of them were trying to pursue me through the trees, but
I was keeping low to the ground, just out of range of their flashlights. I skirted the edge of the camp again, and squirmed underneath one of the trucks.
The rush from the taste of blood dulled the pain that had been my constant companion. Crazy tasted just fine to me. For the first time in weeks, I felt alive again. The chained Survivors struggled against their bonds in a frenzy. The boy that had been crying was the only one who saw me, but he remained in stunned silence. Only one Sadist remained behind the posse hunting me, guarding Them: one male, two females, and the boy. The male’s face was swollen and bruised, but I still saw the shift in his eyes, right before he lunged at his captor. The females remained immobile, but the boy kept watching me. His eyes never left me as I wiggled out from under the truck. The Sadists, who ran past me, were focused on the male attacking the guard. I leapt on the back of the one nearest me, taking a bite out of his neck, knocking him over; my vision went red as blood sprayed in my face.
I saw pieces of dirt suddenly fly up around me, and realized I was being shot at from behind. I turned, and ran past the Survivors, jumping into the bed of the truck. The Sadists tried to stop before they reached the grasp of their playthings, but their momentum carried them forward, crashing into the Survivors. I hadn’t planned to share my food, but it bought me a few precious moments to soar over the side of the truck bed, and back into the tree line. I heard metallic rain as the Sadists unloaded their guns into my general direction. All of them missed hitting me, but I think some were aiming for their companions being mauled by their deadly toys.
The Survivor Page 1
