Life After Death
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s been about six months since we ate our way through the hospital. I’m still with Doc and the guards, along with others we’ve collected on our undead journey. It’s been strange to say the least. I can’t remember who I was before I died. I often wondered if Doc knew he used to be a doctor, and if guards had any idea who they used to be. Doc has since given me his white coat to wear, although now nearly all of it is covered with blood.
We’ve been lying in the field all day, and have yet to see a single Breather. The burning in my stomach is so intense; it’s almost hard for me to lay still. I can’t blow our cover though. Not everyone in our pack agrees on the same hunting method, so we usually only go out in small groups or pairs. Doc and I prefer the “sleeper” method. We play “dead” and let the living come to us. We’ve watched some of the others go out in search of Breathers, only never to be seen again. We assumed hunting them down proved tricky. They have lookouts, long range rifles, and other various weapons. We have our hands and teeth, that’s it. Doc and I have had a couple fragmented discussions on what will happen once there are no more living people. He thinks we’ll start to decay faster and breakdown to the point where we’re immobile. Basically, we’ll starve, but will we die? The fact of it is, we don’t even know what caused this. Who knows what will become of us.
As I lay in the field starting to lose hope, I hear voices in the distance. I look over at Doc and he nods. The field is next to a road, and it’s littered with abandoned cars. We decide to leave the field and crawl over to the cars. I drop down and peer out from underneath one of them. I can only see their feet, so I inch up slowly and peek around the fender. I look down at Doc and nod. We just hit the jackpot. There were only two of them. There was a woman, maybe in her early thirties, with a little girl who couldn’t be more than five. My stomach aches something fierce, and the scent of them is only making it worse. As they near the car we’re hidden behind, Doc creeps up toward the front fender, and I remain at the back. Just as they pass, I leap out and grab the little girl by her ankle, not hesitating to take a bite. The little girl screams, and the woman spins around and frantically tries to free her from my grasp, only to be quickly overtaken by Doc. He sinks his teeth into the woman’s neck, and rips out a large chunk. She struggles against him for a few seconds before finally dropping to her knees. Doc wastes no time. He rips open her stomach and begins pulling out handfuls of innards, hungrily devouring them. I still have the little girl by the ankle, and take another bite out her leg before I yank her off balance, causing her to fall on the ground next to me. She’s screaming and crying in pain and fear as I tear into her face, eating her eyes first, and then ripping out her tongue. I have every intention of saving her tender intestines for last. I have this thought that the little kids are like veal to us, though I can’t remember what veal tastes like.
She’s still sputtering as I bash her head against the ground and crack open her skull. Her brain oozes onto the pavement and I lap it up like a dog. Doc is practically done eating by the time I split open her belly, and finally indulge in her digestive track. I’ve discovered that when it comes to small children, their immature innards taste much better than their immature brains. I tried to ask Doc why that is, and all he said was “knowledge”. At this moment, I still don’t fully understand, but what I do know is I’ve just had the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I roll off the little girl’s carcass and stare up at the sky. Dark clouds rolled in while we were eating. I feel a drop of rain land on my eye ball. The moisture feels good, and I keep my eyes open as the rain continues to fall into them.
Doc crawls away from the woman’s body and lies next to me. We stare into each other’s dead eyes with a certain curiosity. I feel his hand on mine, and it sparks something familiar within me. Doc leans in, and begins to lick the blood and bits of flesh off my face. My hands instinctively grasp his, as I fondly return the gesture.