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Out!

By George Pastore All Rights Reserved ©

Horror

Out!

Monica wanted out. She stood there, completely motionless within the dark confines of her surroundings.

Where am I…why is it so dark...

Pictures in her head, but nothing made sense. She tried to move, but her body felt foreign and not her own. With each shift, she inched slowly back until she struck something. Darker shadows above her, weighing down upon her.

A dense tingle started from the center of her head and traveled down the crossroads of veins and arteries into her arms and legs became an almost erotic, yet uncomfortable sensation; it felt as if she were wearing three pairs of socks.

Move legs…why won’t you just move?

It was hard to tell if the darkness went on and on or if there were actually a barrier of some kind in front of where she stood. As she tried to get her legs to move the numbness in her limbs amplified. She let out a gurgling moan in response to the uneasy sensation.

Slowly she got her body to unsteadily move forward, her nose immediately crashing into something. Typically, that should have hurt like a bitch but all she felt was the pressure of whatever it was not yielding to her movement.

Huuuuurrrlllllp

A sound completely unintelligible escaped from her mouth as she tried to scream for help; her tongue feeling as if it were a plump sausage link behind her teeth.

Somehow she got her right arm to respond as it rose slowly and came down with some force on the barrier before her. The feeling in her hand as it smacked the hard surface reminded her of something she could not quite remember; pins and needles.

Within the tight confines Monica stood there, her body gently swaying back and forth like a small rowboat docked on a calm lake. For the first time she realized that she had no random thoughts, no real desire to do much of anything.

Sleep…I feel so fucking tired. Maybe if I lay down, when I wake up everything will be

normal again. But what is normal? Why am I so fucking hungry?

Typically she would be screaming like mad trying to figure out what the fuck was going

on. However just as quickly as she started to wonder about it everything stopped and once again she simply stood there in the dark.

Sam…Oh Sam, what the fuck happened to you?

Alone in her dark surroundings Monica suddenly remembered her fiancé, Sam. The droning numbness within her head seemed to be getting worse and her brain was fighting her wishes to remember or function.

Although she tried, she could not picture Sam. She couldn’t conjure up any memory of his existence other than his name, at times she even forgot that, especially when the buzzing in her head escalated into a chaotic crescendo.

From somewhere beyond the barrier came the sound of splintering wood followed by a THWACK!

“Check upstairs Jim, I’ll check down here!” A man’s voice commanded although it sounded muffled as if it came through a tin can.

Huuuurlp!

The sound came from Monica although she did not intend to make herself speak, it just involuntarily slipped out.

Closet…I’m in a fucking closet!

At long last she remembered where she was. She was hiding from Sam.

Fucking hungry…

Monica realized that the object in front of her was a door. She tried to get her hands to reach for the knob but they moved as if controlled by puppeteer strings. She was starting to move about and get her body to respond to her wishes with improved results but the numbness made it impossible to completely control.

“Jim, there’s a body down here in the bedroom. I think he is dead.” Again that hollow voice but much closer now.

Sam...

“Wait, how can you tell he’s dead?” The other man asked, his voice sounding like it was sent through a tin can at the end of a string.

Sam…he woke up and bit me. He attacked me! I ran in here to keep him away.

In the closet Monica brought an unsteady hand to a spot on her forearm which was missing a chunk of flesh and muscle. The gaping crater oozed blood and puss onto her new pair of shoes.

“He ain’t coming after us man, if he were one of them he would be doing anything he could to get at us.”

“He has blood all over him. Where did all that come from? He don’t look hurt. He ain’t got any clothes on and I don’t see any wounds.” Jim’s words came out a bit on edge as nerves were starting to take control.

As Jim turned to talk to his partner the naked man quickly sat upright and snarled.

“Holy shit!” Jim yelped as the man latched onto his leg.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening within the small room. In a flash the back of the naked man’s head erupted sending chunks of matted hair, skull, and brain, decorating the bare wall like a maniacal painter throwing buckets of paint on canvas.

“Jesus Christ…” Jim sighed as he took off the respirator mask and took in a deep breath.

“You should keep that on man, don’t know if this shit is airborne or not.”

“After that I need some real air and breathing through this fucking thing isn’t cutting it.” Jim shook the mask at his partner in disgust.

“Yeah yeah, let’s just finish checking this place for supplies and move on. I’ll check the closet.”

“You do that. I’m going to take a leak.” Jim threw his mask onto the bed as he walked towards the bathroom.

Shaking his head in disbelief the masked man put his hand on the handle of the closet door. He turned it and the door swung outward.

Woman’s clothing swayed back and forth on plastic hangers. The man reached into the closet for support so he could check the top shelf when sickly yellow hands grasped his arms and pulled him in.

He tried to scream but the respirator he wore was forced upward on his face and one of the canisters dug into his mouth. He tasted coppery blood from his split lips.

Monica showed no mercy as she dragged the man towards her. Once she saw bare flesh and the pulse of blood in his neck, she lunged forward and sunk her teeth into him like trying to eat a banana through the outer skin.

Savagely she jerked her head back taking half of the man’s neck with her. Blood spurt out from the wound in a pulsating stream in rhythm with a dying heartbeat.

Monica was not strong enough to hold the man’s lifeless body so she let him crumple to the floor as she chewed.

As she swallowed chunks of flesh she noticed the crumpled body of Sam lying in a pool of coagulated gore.

There was little brain function left other than to consume living tissue, however something snuck through the dead matter within her head and struck home. She knew this man, had feelings for him.

She swallowed a particularly rubbery portion of her first meal and began to slowly crawl over to Sam.

She brought her face down to his even as the faintest of memories she had were dissipating like a fine morning mist burning off a lake. She pushed her grey, swollen tongue past her dry, cracked lips and probed the gaping hole in the middle of his head.

Cold, unsavory…dead.

Sam…

Monica slowly rose to her feet to return to her fresh kill. As she passed the bedroom window she saw others just like her approaching the house, her house.

Down the hall past the bathroom there were even more of them filtering in through the battered front door. Some shuffled along while others moved more swiftly and with greater agility.

As Jim’s screams were drowned out by the gleeful moans of the infected, Monica got down on all fours to devour her first meal in the new world; the painful, incessant buzzing from within her head subsiding…for now.
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