My joints are stiff, and they crack with every movement. My muscles feel like rubber bands that have been pulled too tight. I look down at my chest and much to my horror, notice a crudely stitched incision running down between my breasts. That’s not all I notice. With trembling fingers I trace along the Y shaped wound, and realize that my chest isn’t heaving up and down as it should be, and I have no urge to breathe. The only sensation I feel is a burning, deep within my hallow gut. An intense hunger for something I can’t quite seem to identify.
I stiffly slide off the metal slab, and attempt to focus on my surroundings. My vision is blurry, and my eye balls feel as though someone has thrown a handful of sand into them. I ignore the sensation as best I can, and look around. There’s a wall with many small doors on it, and a tray containing an assortment of scary looking metal tools. I know where I am. Morgue. As I’m surveying the room, I’m abruptly seized with pain so intense, it causes me to collapse. The hunger I feel in my gut is almost unbearable, and I wrap my arms around my aching belly.
A noise from the far end of the room startles me. I freeze. A door creaks, followed by the shuffling of feet. From my position on the floor I can see teal scrub pants with white fabric hovering just above the knee. Doctor. I stand, and position myself in full view. “Please” is all I’m able to get out before my throat chokes up. He stops, and slowly turns to face me. He’s deathly pale and extremely disheveled. His eyes are sunken and vacant. A line of drool drips past his parted, bluish lips, and lands on the front of his scrub shirt. I notice the sleeve of his coat is torn and covered in blood. It looks like something has taken a chunk out of his arm. The wound is a ragged, oozing mess, and the flesh surrounding it has turned a sickening gray. I can think of nothing else to do except to point at his arm. He looks down at it, then back up at me, and points to my neck. I bring my hand up to my throat. There’s a cold, stickiness on the side of my neck where a substantial portion of flesh is missing. “Bite”. His voice is so raspy it’s barely above a whisper. Bite... Bite. EAT. I’m suddenly reminded of the burning in my belly, and my hands instinctively go to it. The doctor brings a hand up to his and nods. He turns from me, and ambles towards the door. Something tells me I should follow.
Out in the corridor, it’s utter chaos. People are running and screaming. There’s blood everywhere. Gurneys are overturned. Bodies, as well as body parts litter the ground. As we round the corner, two security guards are tearing apart a petite, blonde nurse. The scent of fresh blood stirs something within my gut. EAT. I watch as the guards tear into her with animalistic ferocity. One has a handful of her intestines and the other is ripping out her throat. The doctor nudges me. He knows what I’m thinking. He heads away from the guards towards an adjacent room. I’m close behind as he pushes open the partially cracked door with the frame of his body. In the room, there’s a man lying in a bed hooked up to machines and bags. At first, I think he’s dead. But then, I smell it. That scent. He is very much alive. The doctor goes over to the man and without hesitation, leans over, and bites into his face. I watch as he feasts, helping himself to one eye, and then the other. Once the eyes are gone, he hooks his fingers in each of the sockets and pulls apart his skull, exposing his brain. One of his machines goes off, beeping loudly, but he ignores it, and dives face first into the spongy mass. I can’t contain myself any longer. I approach from the other side and tear into his neck. His blood pours into my mouth. I can’t get enough, and for a moment, I almost feel alive. I start to eat my way down the length of his arm, greedily tearing his flesh, and devouring muscle and sinew. Then I notice the doc splitting open his belly. I look up with a mouth full of flesh, and he offers me what appears to be some small intestine. I try to act gracious, but instead, grab it away from him and bury my face in it. The insides taste the best.
Finally, the pain in my stomach begins to subside. It’s hard to believe that the mangled mess before me was once a man. The doc grunts. I look up to see he’s on the move again. Once back in the hallway, we approach the two security guards. Blood and gore clings to their faces. The nurse. It’s hard to believe they were once men too. A sudden scream echoes throughout the corridor, seizing our attention. Doc grunts, and we all move on together.