Zombie Blog Hop: The Hunger

It's time to talk zombies!  The Zombie Blog Hop comes to us courtesy of Precious Monsters.  I decided to write a flash fiction piece for this blogging event.  Why? Well, because I love fiction, of course!

The Hunger

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.

The sound isn’t the drip of water from a tap.  If only I could convince myself of that, I might be able to stifle the urge to vomit.  I close my eyes tighter, willing the world away.

You can kill me, but don’t make me look at what you’ve done, I think to myself.  Please, please sweetie, don’t make me look.

The mistakes I’ve made pile up in my mind, and I can’t escape the conclusion that this is my fault.  I was the one who wanted to explore this dead world.  My research tracked the spread of the epidemic to an underground lab.  That lab, as I later learned, belonged to a terrorist group that claimed the apocalypse was nigh.  No one took them seriously.  Little did anyone know they intended to cause the apocalypse themselves.

I regret everything now.

Scrape.  Scrape.  Scrape.  Feet dragging on metal.  The deckplates seem to be singing a wordless eulogy as my deceased husband edges closer.   Though I’m not breathing through my nose to block out the stench of putrefying flesh, I can taste it in my mouth.  The air recycling system dutifully distributes the scent throughout the ship, so even if I escape this room, I won’t escape the harsh reality.

A stiff, cold hand grips my elbow, and my skin crawls.  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  None of this is your fault.”

The response is a dry, raspy wheeze.  A faint tickle of putrid breath falls across my face, and the moment is too much for me.  Vomit pushes its way up my throat and dribbles down my chin.  The hand only tightens its grip and pulls me closer.

Why did I ignore protocol?  Regulations stated that, in a quarantine situation, I was supposed to burn his body after he died.  Yet it all happened so suddenly, and my sentimentality got the best of me.  I wanted to bury him properly.  I wanted to rest alongside him for eternity.  That sentimentality cost me everything.

Our precious daughter had no choice.  We drug her along for this crazy mission, but I was sure I’d done what I could to keep her safe.  Later, when it all started to go wrong, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened to her daddy.  So I lied.  I left his body in the infirmary and told her he was sick.  So when he left his deathbed, she let him into our quarters.  Why wouldn’t she?  It was her daddy, after all.

As he, the love of my life, pulls me closer, I know he’s about to sink his teeth into my neck.  It’ll be over soon.  On this tiny spaceship, I could never have avoided this fate, nor would I have wanted to.  My guilt will soon be veiled by a mindless, insatiable hunger, and that doesn’t sound too bad.

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.  That maddening sound persists.

I only have to wait a few moments longer, so why do I open my eyes?  The compulsion comes from within, and before I can think better of it, my vision is filled with the image of my little girl’s severed head.  The blood drips from her neck, and the sound of it echoes so loud in my ears I’m astonished I can hear anything else.  Her clouded eyes roll up to look at me, and she bares her teeth.  Almost as if she’s accusing me for letting this happen to her.  I know logically that isn’t true.  The hunger has a hold on her.  There isn’t enough of my daughter left to lay blame on me.

When his teeth finally pierce my flesh, the rush of blood brings the warmth of release.  My death is the price of my forgiveness.  Soon I’ll be consumed by the hunger too, and reunited with my family, we’ll wander the corridors of this tiny ship in a fruitless quest for sustenance.

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That's the end of my little tale!  I hope you enjoyed it.  Now hop around to read the other dazzling entries!