Burning Hunger

         

Burning Hunger:

An Apocalyptic Horror Story

by

A.K. Patrick

Part I

of the

Fellow Travelers Series

Circumstance does not make us who we are...

It simply reveals us to ourselves.

Each day grew hotter than the last. The nights more frigid. It was a time of extremes -- in weather -- in hunger -- and in people. What was yesterday's wrong is tomorrow's necessity. Somewhere in between were the fellow travelers, as they made their way in search of food and water -- always searching -- always hungry.
And their hunger burned...

***

Beneath the scarlet stars of a casket-black sky lurked the smell of flesh cooking. A scent of celebration, a scent of victory, a scent of shame. Never did Frank think that a smell -- any smell, could be so intoxicating, so hard to resist, satisfying his burning hunger.
A large chunk of meat, now in the possession of Frank and his fellow travelers, was held above an open fire by an improvised tripod. The ground surrounding the fire was bare with no vegetation. Frank stared into the abyss of the night. A baseball with bloody fingerprints lay near Frank's feet.

***

The fellow travelers setup camp just before reaching a small midwest town. They selected a spot about three-hundred yards from the sun-baked blacktop road. Midday was coming; time to seek shade or incinerate. Nights were darker than dark and the days like brimstone. Travel times were limited, so they sought shade.
Some trees still stood, but there was no foliage, no grass, no plant life -- the planet was dying. Cliff and Destiny collected small trees and branches, taking care to find the straightest and most flexible possible. Frank weaved the wood together for a shade shelter. A welcome relief it was. As usual during idle times, the conversation turned to thoughts of starvation and suicide.
         "Double bacon cheeseburger with onions, lettuce, tomato..." Frank said as he and Destiny lay flat on their backs.
         "Give it a rest, Frank," Destiny said. "I'm so fucking tired of being hungry. I've got this pain that just burns. Sometimes, I just want to kill myself and get it over with."
"How?" Frank asked.
"What?" she said.
"I'm going to go down to the stream and get some water, while you two play psycho and psychoette," Cliff said. "It's only a couple hundred yards away, so I won't be far."
"I'm asking how you'd off yourself. So what would it be?"
"Well, I could just lay here. I'd be dead in a day or two -- or maybe just an hour or two out in the sun."
"No really, how would you do it?"
"I don't know. I try not to think about it too much. Some days it's just too tempting. Some days I think 'today's the day, I might as well get it over with' and that scares the shit out of me. You know?"
"Yeah," Frank said, "but if it was time, how'd you do it?"
"Damn Frank, I don't know -- how would you?"
"Well ... I'm a simple guy, so, I guess, I'd get a razor sharp edge on my blade... and, I'd just slit my throat. Nothing fancy. Just enough to get the job done. A final 'fuck you' to hunger."
"Fish tacos. Remember those nasty-ass things? They'd be so good right now."
"Why ain't you answering the question, Destiny?"
"Because it's creepy. I'd probably just piss you off so you'd kill me."
"If I have to kill you, I'm eating your skinny ass too," he said with a wide grin.
Destiny giggled and said: "I'd expect nothing less, Frankie."
"Frank! Get over here. Now!" Cliff said.
Frank and Destiny ran down to the stream to find Cliff holding a woman down on the ground. "Get me something to tie her hands with," he said. He looked up and Frank saw the burning hunger in his eyes.
The woman bit Cliff's hand. He let out a groaning scream. "You fucking cunt!" Cliff took a small rock and smacked her in the head with it. It was like selecting a good melon -- a thud followed by a hollow echo.
"Damn," Destiny said, "now, this bitch is looking pretty tasty." She licked her lips.
And their hunger burned...


Frank was staring at the woman when she awoke and began to plead. "Please don't kill me," the woman said. "Please... please... please." Her voice was faint.
         "If you don't shut the fuck up I'm going to cut your head off and scramble your goddamn brains for breakfast," Frank said.
         "Ohh, Frank don't be a tease. I wonder if they'd have the same texture as eggs -- remember bacon and eggs? Mmm..." Destiny said.
         "Yeah. Remember Denny's Grand Slam breakfast? Or... even better -- a McGriddle."
         Cliff gagged the woman to stop her pleading. "Go get some firewood. I'll stay here and watch the woman."
         "Cliff, we planning on eatin' this woman? We ain't never went that far. We talk a lot of shit but--" Frank said.
"It sounds good to me. Let's eat this beady-eyed bitch," Destiny said, "she's kind of chubby -- I bet she'd be juicy as fuck. Like a sausage link ... or--or, a ribeye. Mmm..."
"What? You two serious about eatin' this woman? She ain't done us no harm."
"I know we've always stopped short of eating people, but times are hard, brother. They're hard, we're hungry and things aren't going to get any better -- we need to adapt, improvise, overcome -- just like dad taught us when we were kids." We have her now. ... And, we may not get another opportunity to eat for God knows how long. ... And it may be too late. We haven't eaten a single thing in twelve days. Twelve. Long. Days. We have to face the fact that this is the hand we've been dealt."
And their hunger burned...

FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER

Frank was mopping up milk spilled by a kindergartener when he was approached by a six-year-old girl holding a folded piece of construction paper. She held it in his direction, arms fully extended. "Here. This is for you, Mr. Frank," said the little girl.
"What's this?"
"It's for you. I made it all by myself," she said with smiling eyes belonging to a portrait, "just for you, Mr. Frank. It's Teacher Appreciation Day. Haven't you seen all the signs on the walls?"
"Yeah, I have, they're pretty. Where's yours?"
"Mine is in the first grade hall 'cause I'm a first-grader this year."
"That's sweet, but I'm not a teacher. I'm just a janitor. I'm nothing."
"Nobody is not just nuthin. If they were they wouldn't even be here. They wouldn't be anywhere, 'cause they were nuthin. Silly Mr. Frank -- take it, I made it special just for you. It has glitter -- see." She smiled even wider this time, revealing she was missing her two front teeth.
"Okay. Thank you, sweetheart."
"You're welcome Mr. Frank. And, you are a teacher. You're the one that taught me how to open my milk in the lunchroom, and you're the one that taught me how to tie my shoes. You remember, don't you, Mr. Frank?"
"Well, yeah but... I didn't think nobody never paid no attention to me... never remembered the things I do."
"You wanna go to the daddy-daughter dance with me next week? My real daddy died in Iraq. He was a soldier. I never knowed him."
"I would absolutely love to. In fact, it would be my honor." As Destiny returned to her class, Frank turned toward the wall and wiped tears from his eyes. His smile, however, could not be erased.

***

"Mommy!" the boy cried out.
         The woman bound and gagged responded with a desperate muffle.
         "Look Frank, Cliff brought dessert back!" Destiny said, as Cliff approached dragging a small child by his arm.
         "I found him hiding behind a tree, down by the stream. ... I have an idea," Cliff said. "Why don't we walk the woman all the way to the lake -- kinda like food that won't spoil. It's fall, and getting cooler. I say we walk her there, filet her up and dip her in the cool water. Shit, we can even use her innards for bait. It'd buy us some time to get things set-up for spring. We could all eat off her for the entire winter."
         "So what are we plan on eatin' tonight then?" Frank asked.
         "Come on Frank, we're obviously eating the little fella. That's the only way Cliff's plan works -- and it's brilliant! Looking pretty tasty there short stuff. Oh, Frankie, come on, it'll be like veal -- remember veal. Ohh ... nice and tender."
"I ain't eatin' no fuckin' kid! No way. No sir. No how. I ain't eatin' no fuckin' kid!" Frank said as he paced in a small circle holding his head. ... Then he stopped, looked up, and said: "I have another plan ... make the woman do it."
"What?" Destiny asked.
"Make the bitch butcher her own boy and I'll give in. You won't hear another complaint. But, if she won't do it to save her own ass, we eat her."
"This is some seriously twisted shit -- I love it," Destiny said.
"So ... if she agrees ... you're in? But, if she refuses, we're still fucked because we won't have enough food to last the winter," Cliff said.
"Yeah you will," Frank said. "If she refuses, the boy goes free -- we eat her and then if we can't make it through the winter, you'll have me to eat. I'm bigger than her. I'll feed you more than that boy will. Let's have her decide if there's any humanity left on this dead rock."


Cliff handed the woman his hatchet. She squeezed its handle and Frank noticed her reflection in it from the fire's light. Her face void of expression, her eyes coffin black, her soul vacated. She looked at the boy. Seven years of innocence looked back. The boy's cries muffled by the gag.
         "Hold on!" Frank said. He walked over to the boy, keeping a close eye on the woman with the hatchet. As Frank drew his blade to cut the boy's gag off, he gave the boy's mother an artic stare.
         The boy let out a scream: "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
         "Shut up kid. Let's get on with it," Cliff said. "You know she's still going to do it, don't you, Frank?"
         "The boy should have his say. Ain't nothing wrong with that."
         "Mommy, mommy, please mommy," the boy begged. "I promise I'll be good, mommy."
         "What's it gonna be bitch?" Destiny asked. "You chicken? ... bock, bock, bock."
         As the boy continued to cry out for his mother to spare him, the woman's hand began to shake. "Shut up!" she said, as she gave him a whack with the hatchet. Her aim was poor. The hatchet's blade cut right through his cheek and wedged itself into his jaw. The blow forced his bottom jaw to shift to the left. His screaming intensified.
         Frank took a step towards the woman and boy. "Keep your distance, Frank. We have a deal," Cliff said, as his hand brushed against the camel bone handle of his knife.
The woman pulled on the hatchet but could get no leverage. She kicked the boy to the ground. She grunted. She held him down with her left leg and pulled again. The hatchet was free. The boy started spitting out teeth and choking on blood. She gave him another whack. She must've been half blind, she missed his throat again. Another blast from his mother hit him just beneath his right eye. It was enough to dislodge his eyeball and force his nose to smell the other side of his face.
The boy called out in pain: "Mommy! Please stop..." His voice was fading.
"Stop staring at me!" she said. She reached down and severed the cord holding his eye with her left hand.
"Mommmmmy!" was the boy's last word -- his last appeal to her motherhood -- his last appeal to humanity.
"Shut up! Just shut up! And stop staring at me!"
She took the blunt side of the hatchet and smacked his other eye. It popped like a balloon. She tossed the hatchet to the side and picked up a sizable rock. With both hands she brought it down on his throat. He spewed blood two feet in the air. She hit him again, this time in the face. Each blow brought about a geyser of blood. The woman's aim was improving. She hit him again with the full force of the stone. And then again. She tossed the blood and brain matter covered rock to the side and screamed, arms extended to her side. The boy was now unrecognizable. Now she could eat without his stare. Teeth littered the ground around him.
"Holy shit! What a cold-hearted bitch... I didn't think she'd actually do it," Destiny said with a schoolgirl giggle.
Frank was on his knees, hands over his head and rocking back and forth weeping. "No! No. No!" he said. "What kind of mother kills her own boy? That just ain't right!"

The woman sat against a tree, staring into the darkness, covered with her son's blood. Brain matter and optical tissue under her fingernails. She crawled over to her boy's body. She reached into the boy's pocket and pulled out a baseball. She caressed it and gave it a kiss. "Here you go, you sorry sack of shit." She tossed it over to Frank. It rolled just past his feet. "This was your idea, take the ball as a reminder."
"I didn't think you'd do it," Frank cried, "I..."


Each in turn took their taste of child, except for Frank. He stared into the abyss of the night like a sailor lost at sea.
His fellow travelers ate in silence, watching the captive woman eat her own child -- the flavor of child overpowered the echoes of smacking lips.
No longer did the fellow travelers' hunger burn...

Frank disappeared somewhere into the darkness. Ball in hand, blade by his side. Humanity intact, but heartbroken. He tried, but failed. His mistakes and miseries came to an end that night.
No longer did Frank's hunger burn...

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