Consumed

(Word Count: 495)

         

      “Steady that thing Gerard, I can’t see.”

         Fredrick was leaning close over Gerard’s shoulder, squinting into the tiny screen of his hand-held television. The batteries were dying and the signal was scratchy. He tried to stay collected, but his hands betrayed his pounding heart.

         “If anyone is recording, let it be known that the date is December 28, 2012,” came a woman’s voice. “It has now been two days since they came, and there’s no sign of hope. We are the last news station still on the air in the country, for now.”

         “Goddamn Gerard, you’re shaking like my niece.”

         “Fredrick, your niece is dead now.”

         “No she ain’t!” he shouted, snagging Gerard up by the collar of his shirt. The sour smell of jerky spilled over Gerard’s face; it made his stomach curl and growl at the same time. Rations were running low.

`          Manhattan lay desolate around them. Up the road in either direction were heaps of dead bodies: women, children, men with make-shift weapons still gripped tight in their lifeless hands. Blood was running thick down the sides of the street, seeping into the gutters through cracks of amassed corpses.

         A dragging sound sifted loudly through the alleyway behind them. The handheld T.V. fell deftly to the ground. Fredrick let loose Gerard’s collar and backed slowly away. The dragging persisted grotesquely slow.

         “Fredrick,” Gerard whispered.

         “I’ve gotta fucking run, brother.”

         “Let’s go Fredrick.”

         Closer yet the sound came crawling. Gerard could suddenly feel the vibrations of the movement creeping over his skin, death singing his nostrils.

         “I’m losing it brother. I’m cracking, my legs aren’t moving and I'm asking them to but they’re not goin. They’re not goin, brother. I’m gonna split right the fuck open if I don’t run, brother. Brother… I… brother… brother…”

         Fredrick’s eyes burst open wide as though peeled back by madness. He fell into mechanical repetition, the words tattooed in his speech. Gerard felt overwhelmingly nauseous. He followed Fredrick’s gaze and found himself locking gaze with a swaying mass of brown down the alley.

         “Oh God, brother. Oh fuck, brother.”

         With surprising alacrity the figure lunged, flying almost, to a light pole only feet from him. It was now clear that the mass was what used to be a monkey, no larger than a dog. It’s head was cracked open at the side, revealing decayed pink tissue. Its eyes were as deep a crimson as the blood dripping from its fangs. Staring directly into its eyes, Gerard felt as though he too were paralyzed by the vacuity of its gaze. Lifeless, it returned his look without regard, as though it were looking through him, or into him.

         It cried out, and still they were paralyzed. More monkeys crawled forth and leaped closer. They seemed to multiply instantly until Gerard was standing numb before a sea of vapid monstrosity. They inched nearer to him in a collective hungry tide, moving closer and closer.

         “Oh God, brother. Oh fuck, brother.”