At least a half dozen of the Sadists were dead, or on their way. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, and crashed into a Survivor. I should have known the increase in noise would attract unwanted attention. Suddenly, his brains exploded out the back of his head. I ducked off to the side, to avoid taking a bullet in my own head. That’s when I noticed the other Survivors. Once again, they took no notice of me, and immediately engaged the Sadists in combat. They had the advantage, since the Sadists had stupidly used most of their ammo spraying the tree lines, hoping to hit me. I’m not sure if they were still drunk or not, but none of them managed to get another head shot.
I didn’t stay to watch the outcome; I wanted to eat. I hungrily licked the blood around my mouth, and made my way through the trees to the other side of the camp. I didn’t get very far, when I heard the boy screaming. I immediately cut to the side, and ran in the direction of his voice. The boy was crawling away from a Sadist bashing in the head of one of the females with a bat. Without thinking, I threw myself at the attacker, catching his forearm with my teeth. I didn’t have a good grip, and he yanked his arm away so hard that a big strip of flesh tore away. I greedily scarfed the meat down my throat in just two bites. A new sensation rippled through my body, as my stomach rejoiced at the sensation of food. I was so happy to have a fresh meal that I didn’t see the other female pick up the bat, and swing it at me.
I heard a crack, and for a moment I couldn’t tell if it had been the bat or my skull. I laid there in a daze, and heard the boy yelling for her not to hit me again. The female shouted something about me being infected. I was furious that one of Them had the audacity to call me “infected,” and flipped up towards her. I was aiming for her throat, but she crouched just enough for me to clamp down on her lower jaw. With a quick flick of my head, I tore the lower half of her face off. The boy let out a yelp; when I glanced back at him, he was crab-walking away from me. I loped towards the boy, and he crossed his arms in front of his face. I sprung up at the Survivor that was reaching for the boy from behind him, and bit one of her arms.
My stomach lurched, and I instantaneously let go as a foul taste spilled into my mouth. I always wondered how the Survivors had adapted to the apocalypse, and now I knew the answer. I frantically searched for someone to tear into, to replace the disgusting flavor of rotted, mutated flesh in my mouth. I attacked a Sadist who was fumbling with ammo, letting his salty blood wash over my tongue. I tore his bicep from his arm, and gobbled it down before the Survivor could interrupt my feeding. I smelled urine as I ate; the boy had peed his pants, but he didn’t try to move away from me. Maybe he’s not a sheep like Them, after all.
We both jerked when the Survivor’s head reeled backwards from a single shot to the forehead. One of the remaining Sadists aimed his gun at my head, and I returned to eating after I heard the hollow click. The male, originally one of Them, had become one of the Survivors, and was now strong enough to overpower his captors. He bit into the shoulder of the stunned Sadist, and forced him to the ground. A few Sadists had piled into a truck, and fled the massacre. The Survivors, including the new recruits, followed the path of the truck. The boy had remained frozen in place in the dirt, terrorized into silence; his fear had preserved him, while everyone else had died or evolved.
After shredding various muscles away from the body, I tore open the belly of my meal, digging past the layers of fat, ignoring the intestines filled with filth. The liver tasted a bit off from the constant alcohol consumption, but I savored it nonetheless. I felt the full force of my power return to me; after weeks of conserving my life force in one small form, I could transform once again.
I heard the boy whimpering, smelled the shit in his pants, as my body contorted and expanded. My senses shifted along with my outward appearance; my vision flickered, growing dependent on the light of the camp fire, with my night vision fading and the color of my surroundings returning to me. The chill of the air gave my naked skin goosebumps. I stood up, stumbling as I adjusted to walking on two legs, instead of four. I examined the bodies around me, searching for clothes to cover myself. Noiseless tears and snot ran down the boy’s face, with his big round eyes staring at my attempt to disguise myself as one of Them.
I pulled open the door to a nearby truck, searched the cab, and marveled at the return of my thumbs when I picked up some water bottles. I noticed there were keys in the ignition, and wondered if I still remembered how to drive. I tossed a bottle to the boy; he curled into a ball, letting the bottle hit the ground. He did seem a bit stupid like Them, expecting me to attack, despite my conscious decision to spare his life. I waited for him to unfold himself, but he didn’t stir. I grabbed a discarded rifle, and prodded the boy, but he still remained still. I knelt beside him, turned him over, and listened for his heartbeat. Nothing. His body had just given out.
I picked the boy up, and carried him to the river bank, still getting used to being upright. Several weeks ago, I had opted to stay in the form that required less work to maintain. It was also easier to hunt for food that way. For instance, I would never have caught those cats running on two legs. But one day, I realized that I couldn’t shift if I wanted to; I had grown too weak. I didn’t have the calories to burn in the transformation process. Reflecting on that unexpected dilemma, I undressed the boy, cringing at the shit smeared on his buttocks. I pushed his body into the shallows, using the water and my hands to clean his little body. I also scrubbed at myself, knowing I could be attacked by Them if they saw my face covered in dried blood.
I carried the naked body back to the truck with the keys, and tossed it onto the seat. I knew the meat was already spoiling, but I wanted to put some distance between myself and the camp before I fed again. I’m not a monster like Them; I don’t kill for sport, or waste precious resources. Granted, I did toy with the Sadists, but the other Survivors made a meal of them, so nothing went to waste. This was the new balance of nature: waste not, want not. An apocalypse isn’t the end of all life; it’s just an extreme version of natural selection. Some Survivors, like me, evolved on our own before the old world was expected to make way for the new world. Others adapted through various plagues. The Sadists are a breed of Them that will soon be extinct, since they show no signs of being able to reproduce successfully. The future of Them is uncertain, but perhaps they can be bred for a reliable food source. I don’t think I could ever get used to eating the walking dead.
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The Survivor Page 2
