Don't Eat Meat - Part 2

The tremors of pain grew with each passing minute, and within a half hour Larry was struggling to hold back the blood curling scream that was boiling beneath the surface. It was a pain he hadn’t felt before, or since the attack that had left him scarred for life, but felt completely different. Instead of feeling like his skin was peeling and popping under the tremendous heat of a fire, he now felt like his skeleton was the source of heat, like a fire poker left in the flames too long. White hot, and sizzling.

Within a half hour he was full on seizing on the ground, the pain racking his body so intensely that it caused a jolt of stiffness to shoot through him and then relax. Had a doctor seen him, they might say that he was having something similar to a seizure, except instead of his eyes rolling into his head they were wide open. Wider than he could ever remember them being, it felt like his eyes were about to pop from his sockets, as drool escaped his lips and rolled down his face, more following it with every spasm. He was dying, and even without having any proof, he knew it to be true.

It was around the time that the mind splitting headache took over for the spasms when a knock came at his door. Quiet, remorseful, Larry already knew it was Dan. The voice inside him had told him it was Dan, like some sort of rodent it nagged at the back of his mind, pinching and pulling at certain nerves and receiving certain responses. Until finally, the headache ended and with a relieved huff, he got to his feet. What exactly was going on? Larry didn’t know. All he knew was that it was as if his eyes were the screens of a cinema, as his body operated on auto-pilot and gracefully moved to the door, opening it wide revealing the sorry form of Dan. Six pack in hand, it looked like he was trying to make up for his previous remark, as he smiled weakly and held it up as if to ward of the demons inside of Larry.

“S-sorry about what I said Larry…I can’t image how you must feel, but it must be hell and a half. I just wanted to let you know, I’m here for you bro, whatever you need,” No matter how hard Larry tried to tell Dan off, his lips wouldn’t move, and instead of moved to the side of the door and offered the neighbour entrance, to which he casually accepted.

[i]Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES![/i] Chanted the voice in his head, the rodent of his mind, the predator of his dreamscape. “Those look really bad man…what happened?” Asked the neighbour, his eyes zeroing in on Larry’s burns as he broke off a can from the six pack before handing it to his crispy friend, just as Larry shut the door behind him. Beer didn’t hold any use for Larry though, and he waved off the beer suggesting it ‘probably wouldn’t help the cause’. It seemed reasonable, so Dan just simply made his way into the nearby living room, passing the kitchen and glancing at the still open cupboards and surrounding mess that Larry had left.

No comment though, he didn’t want to bother the burned man at all, and sat down silently on the leather couch, directly in front of the TV. Game was already on, so he just settled back with the six pack on his lap and started drinking, whilst Larry took a seat on his leather recliner and patiently bid his time, paying more attention to his guest than the game on the screen.

“Somethin on your uh… mind Larry?” Asked Dan, his concern more relating to his neighbour’s condition than the pair of eyes that seemed latched to himself. But the burned man in the chair simply shook his head. “You haven’t said a word since I came in, that’s why I asked,” No response.

“Would you…like…a drink?” Asked Larry, his voice mechanical and robotic, more forced than fluid which drew attention from Dan who raised his open beer to signify he already had one. Regardless, Larry rose to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen, hidden by a wall; Larry poured some water into a pot and set it on the element of his oven. Body tense with inner tension at Larry’s trifling battle of wits with the bacteria, which with every passing moment was slowly enveloping the hosts psyche. Emotions were leaking from him like an unsupervised hose, but due to Larry’s current predicament he didn’t notice the steady seeping.

“You uhh, cookin something Larry?” Asked Dan from the kitchen, who upon receiving no answer from Larry simply shrugged it off the Viking fan’s rudeness. Maybe a minute or two passed before the water began to boil, but by now Dan had convinced himself something was probably wrong with Larry, as he seemed to think that with the copious amounts of burns on his body, his neighbour was like a helpless child. Big mistake.

Upon rounding the corner between the kitchen and living room, Dan was struck in the face by a tremendously painful amount of boiling water, bringing the man to his knee’s with a shrill scream as his hands gripped at his burning face. Thoughts ran rampant through his mind, the most vocal of which was ‘What the fuck?!’ followed by ‘You sick fuck!’ which preceded ‘You’re fucking dead!’ and then he pounced forward. Having never been in a fight before, the bacteria was astonished at it’s victims ability to withstand the pain as the human lunged towards Larry, tackling him backwards into the oven, striking his back on the red hot element.

Hitting the ground in a heap, the bacteria let loose Larry’s most primordial instinct: the will to survive, and as Dan mounted on top of him, Larry’s fist involuntarily slammed hard into his neighbours nose. Spouts of deep red blood shot forth from the wound as Dan reeled back in pain and Larry took the opportunity to death spin his way out of the mount, sending Dan sliding sideways before cracking his skull on the sharp edge of the nearby counter.

With the adrenaline and pain coursing through his veins though, the heavy set ex-football player took the hit like a champ, and as Larry rose to his feet, hand’s clenched at his sides, so to did Dan. He was the first to punch, slugging Larry’s unguarded face hard with a right hook, before the bacteria realized that it should block the attacks and raised Larry’s fists. Next shot was a left jab, but the bacteria saw it coming, ducked at the last second and walloped Dan with an astonishingly strong blow to his stomach, knocking the air right out of the larger man and sending him sprawling to the ground.

To say that the bacteria let loose with a fury would be an understatement, as Larry leapt forward and brought his solid foot to bear on his neighbours face with a sickening crunch, imploding his nose and causing even more fluid to leak out. That was it for Dan though, as he slipped into the unconscious as Larry continued his vicious assault, before realizing the man was no longer fighting back.

Chump.

Whispered the bacteria, having dug through Larry’s mind momentarily to grasp the word it thought suited the situation. But after that it remained silent, instead going through the motions of binding Dan’s unconscious frame to the recliner in the living room. When that was finished, the infected man stared at his fresh meal with hungry eyes as he sat silent on the coffee table. Then, without any sort of warning he sunk his sharp teeth into Dan’s flesh, attacking his neck as the bacteria had done some more digging and found Larry thought it was the weakest part of the body. With yet another high pitched scream, Dan burst from his sleep to witness his long time rival munching on the flesh he’d torn out from his neck. Blood leaked and spurted randomly, coating anything it touched in a shimmery red liquid and as Larry moved forward for another bite, Dan did the only thing he could do. Head butt.

“You sick son of a bitch Larry!” He screamed as the infected man reeled back and toppled over the coffee table, landing with a hard thud on the floor of his apartment. “What the FUCK is wrong with you? You some kind of disgusting cannibal? Fuck…HELP! HEEEEEELP!” The screams would go silent as Larry shot up from his fallen spot and let loose a fury of unforgiving punches to the man’s face. Had he not already been covered in the slim of his own plasma, one would see the bruises already forming and the massive cuts that Larry’s hard knuckles had opened.

The rest as they say, is history, and once the bacteria felt satisfied at the amount of food it had ingested, Larry collapsed onto the nearby sofa, drooling blood and itty bitty pieces of flesh as his mind was enveloped wholly with sleep and the bacteria’s propagation. The buffed up stomach acid broke down the flesh like nothing, using every last bit of it to feed the bacteria which by now had completely filled Larry’s body. Each small piece of meat caused the bacteria to pump out a plethora of enzymes and nutrients, strengthening not only Larry’s physical abilities but also his mind, whilst simultaneously stripping him of emotion and at a slower speed, the ability to speak.

Were it not for the downfalls of the bacteria, one might say that it was actually helpful, and indeed if these traits were removed it would be a startling change to the world as we know it. But unfortunately that seemed to be neigh impossible, and little did Larry know as he slept soundly on his couch, that reports similar to his own were being reported all along the west coast, stretching as far inland as Charlotte, as south as Miami, and as far north as Albany. Yet the reports were all sketchy, and no one seemed able yet to connect the dots as the infection spread. That and the government were doing a mighty fine job of keeping the news contained as it worked on a solution to the problem. But the bacteria was causing problems, it seemed uncontainable, always infecting anyone via any entrance into the body and without a warm body to keep it safe the bacteria seemed to die off faster than any other substance on the planet as dangerous as it. And no one knew where it had come from.

It wasn’t for an entire day that Larry awoke, the stench of death lingering heavily in the living room as he peeled his face from the dried puddle that hard former beneath it. Eyes still shut and full of sleep, he sat himself up to get his bearings and stretched out widely, incidentally tapping the chair nearby with one of his feet. This brought his eyes to open, and in the process he was struck with a sharp knife of disgust, pity, and fear all rolled into one big, bad pile.

The urge to vomit followed closely, but the bacteria saw to it that this would not happen, and instead Larry shot to his feet and bolted from the room, his fear overwhelming the other emotions as he rushed into the bathroom and began the slow process of filling the tub up with the coldest water the tap produced. If one were to ask him the reasoning behind his actions, he’d be stumped for a long period of time.

Thoughts of the police raiding his apartment, and him being taken away to some medical facility deep underground struck a cord of despair and dismay as he coward on the fake linoleum floor. His knee’s were tight against his chest as he rocked back in sudden jerks, face buried between his knees as he tried to rationalize what exactly was happening. Memories of the doctor at the hospital flooded into his conscious, and almost immediately he was at his feet and prowling through the medicine cabinet until he finally found the orange bottle of pills.

Bingo.

First thought: Three would do the trick, no should probably make it five. And as he popped them into his mouth and swallowed them whole, he foresaw himself passed out on the bathroom floor, the pain meds working their way through his body and dulling the tremendous aching in his stomach. Sure he’d just woken up, but he still felt physically exhausted, like something was exerting itself within his body as he slept and had used up all of his energy. Some sort of strange re-wiring of his system to feed a separate being other than himself, and until he collapsed it all made perfect sense…

Twelve hours later and the drugs had long lost their affects, but the rumbling of his stomach had subsided enough that Larry could sleep through it, at least until the bacteria deemed it necessary to eat. Sending a sharp feeling of pain, like a knife digging into his gut, Larry’s eyes launched open revealing the deadly bloodshot that streaked his formerly yoke white peepers.

Take a bite, you’ll feel better.

Soothed the voice within his head, which Larry was beginning to understand, was foreign. It didn’t seem to have his best interests at the forefront of its thought, and since the lockup of his body which resulted in the death of his neighbour; Larry knew something was totally up. Even if he had his suspicions at the first feeling of pain in his stomach. But valiantly Larry resisted the increasing urge to eat, and instead vacated the bathroom in favour of the living room, where he took a seat and flipped through the channels.

About a half hour into his viewing experience, Larry felt a cool dripping between his legs and shot up fearing he’d someone not noticed a leak from one of his orifices. Waddling like an emperor penguin, the host made his way to the bathroom before peeling his pants down and glaring at the stain on the front of his briefs. It wasn’t much, and seemed to stick to his skin as he poked at it with his finger, a dastardly smell arising from the patch, so Larry picked at the elastic band carefully. Almost delicately and with fear of what he might behold, Larry slipped it down by minute increments until first his pubes, then the top of his penis came into view, but as he peered into the abyss past this ‘high water mark’ Larry’s mouth gaped in horror and a shrill scream exploded from his lungs.

It wasn’t feces, or piss like he had anticipated, but rather it was the liquefying of his genitalia which drooped down into the darkness and bubbled on the middle part of his underwear.

See Larry? Told you to eat, must eat yes.

Came the freakish voice as Larry’s own subsided into a ghostly whisper. Was this really happening? Or could it be possible that he was still sleeping? The host didn’t want to take any chances as he dropped his briefs completely and was struck full force by not only the stench of death, but the sight of it as well.

If there was any shred of humanity left in Larry, it left him right that moment as he pulled the briefs back up and rifled into the living room before gnawing viciously on the corpse that still sat rotting in the living room. He didn’t stop until he, or the bacteria, felt satisfied, at which time he got himself dressed robotically.

Larry didn’t know why, but the next thing he knew he was out the door and halfway down the street, his torso covered with a long sleeve shirt that mismatched his pair of cargo shorts. It wasn’t even the bacteria that made him lose his fashion sense; he just never had any to begin with.

At the store the old Chinaman stared at his crispy face, as did the three customers who all gawked shamefully. When his eyes locked with theirs, they of course turned away, hoping that the victim wouldn’t have seen their stares, but sadly he did. Sadness from earlier was replaced with a fistful of rage, and unbeknownst to him it was the last bit of emotion he’d feel for the rest of his life.  No matter the short amount that was left.

Plopping the bag of ice on the counter, Larry bore holes into the surrounding people with his wide, fear stricken eyes. Not that he could change the expression, but the fright it put into the people made him content. After paying it was a short trip across the street to his apartment and an even shorter elevator ride to the top. Once the bag was in the tub, he carried over Dan with surprising ease, unbound him, and plopped his bloodied body into the frozen tub. Almost immediately his eyes shot open and without any emotion Larry shoved his hand into his neighbours face and pressed the head down under the water level.

“Shhhh…be quiet now. No need to wake the neighbours,” And slowly the man’s life force withered away. Within around two minutes the struggling had stopped, but Larry kept his head down for another good thirty seconds before releasing his hold and watching the now cool corpse float up without movement. “Good, thank you for your co-operation,” His words were as cold as the water, and as he dug his teeth into the man’s flesh for the second time since he’d captured him, he was overcome with tons of dopamine, not that he could feel it at all.

Once he was full to the point that he felt he could vomit, the bloodied zombie stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, soaking the sheets and blankets with the blood of his neighbour as it ran rampant out of his mouth. After all, it wasn’t the blood he was after, it was the nice delicious flesh. Dreams filled his mind; no they were more like thoughts as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The bacterium was hard at work once again, using the enzymes and nutrients to not only pump his body up further, but also to transform his body from one form to another.

He was now less human than he was a strange new mutation, a result of years of corporate waste comingling and mutating much like Larry himself. It had undergone drastic changes before it began to infect, but by then the corporations had already discovered it. They’d observed it, mutated it further, and then passed it out discreetly across the entire east coast. Now, not only were the rivers and part of the Atlantic contaminated, but so too were the reservoirs, the source of water for every human being along the coast. Heat killed it, they knew that, and they figured they could create an antidote before it got out of hand, but so far they’d turned up nothing.

A beast had been unleashed upon humanity, and the handlers hadn’t quite yet figured out a way to protect everyone else from the dangers. Sure, some could be saved, sealed up in air tight, deep ground bunkers with stores of food to last for months. Costs for these V.I.P’s would be through the roof, but the handlers would be able to pay for it with the money they’d receive from these big shots themselves. People like the oil CEOs, various presidents, and a few movie stars would show up, pay the multi-billion fee to save their and their families lives.

But back in the apartment of death and decay, Larry suddenly awakes covered in his neighbour’s blood which has now dried to a hard stain. It’s impossible to clear out of his bed, but after a few seconds of picking at it and the large amount on his body, Larry just decides to take a shower and strips down on his way to the bathroom. Then, oops, he’s forgotten there’s a body in the tub. Most of the flesh on the corpse is gone, with the majority of its bones intact albeit scratched and chipped from Larry’s hungry teeth. He’s gone through the largest portion of it; the torso and now only has to finish off the legs which float carefully at the top of the water, joined by sporadic pieces of ice which have melted to shadows of their former selves. But he decides not to eat. Not yet at least. And lifts up the legs as if they’ll bite him and carries their dripping forms into the kitchen, where he clears out the freezer and places them in the back. Not the best place for them, he’ll admit, but it’ll do for now at least until the hunger strikes again.

A stirring in the back of his mind, as if another part of his psyche was just starting to jar from it’s sleep and then he felt the presence of the bacteria. It was stronger than it was before, like an entire entity in him as it yawned and he randomly stretched to accommodate the sleep state it had been in.

What’s this? Why are those not in the tub?

Asked a slightly agitated voice, its vocabulary still not as large as his, but slowly growing to compensate. It sounds more human now, taking on the form of a mixture of voices Larry’s heard in his past, this time the voice of his boss, Mark. Fucking bastard bacteria, it knows the voice sets Larry on edge from his slightly increased heart rate and brain activity.

“I’m taking a shower, can’t shower with those in the tub, right?” Scanning. It almost hurts Larry, like the onset of a headache, but the feeling is fleeting and lasts only a few seconds as the infection finds the definition of ‘shower’.

No need for shower. You didn’t shower before anyways.

Cocky little bastard, now it’s taking on the role of his mother, naggy voice and all. It reminds him of lazy times relaxing on the couch before his mother would come home and assault him with a barrage of insults, anything ranging from ‘you stink’ right up to ‘you’re as useless as your father’. He learned to tune them out, as she had been Bi-Polar, and sometimes missed a medication or two, but that’s not to say she didn’t still set him high on edge.

“Yeah, but I’m covered in blood and I want to go outside. I’m tired of being cooped up in this apartment,” More scanning, the bacteria becoming more and more intelligent as it goes on with its day. Larry doesn’t realize how much scanning he’ll be in for if he leaves the front door, the brunt of his mind thinking about what he wants to do on this sunny NYC day.

Then shower fatass, use soap.

He almost wants to punch himself in the head, if not to screw about the infection then to at least pay it back for the snide remark, but he doesn’t and it already knows about the thought. It remains silent though, the enzymes it’s pumping doing its arguments for him. In the shower Larry observed his drooping genitals, all of which had stopped rotting but were still damaged beyond repair or use for gods sake. As he poked and prodded with his finger, a feeling of utter disgust at the sight forced him from the warm embrace of the water, so he dried off, changed, and then headed out the door immediately. No need to cover his burns, as the bacteria has seen it fit to repair it to the point that they look ancient, as if he’d gotten them as a boy and had been living with them for his entire life. His pockets held a bit of cash, a knife for protection, cell phone, and strangely the number of the doctor he’d seen at the hospital. It’d been a few days now since he’d left, but he felt healthier than he ever had aside from the voices in his head, and as he left out the front door Larry started out at a steady jog, something he hadn’t done in…shit he couldn’t even remember.

Eyes craned in their sockets as he jogged passed boggled civilians, which were followed by grimaces and hushed conversations, all of which he picked up like the chirping of the birds high above or the car radios that passed by. Everything seemed a few notches louder, clearer as well, the only thing Larry regretted as he jogged through little Italy was the fact that he ran right head long into Tommy, and his lackey guinea accomplice, Paulie.

“Look who da fuck it is Paulie, who let you outta the bed ya fuckin walkin corpse?” Spout Tommy as soon as he saw the crisp target of his hate come jogging around the corner in front of them. They weren’t out for a leisurely stroll, no they’d come to collect some dough for the boss like they had months ago when Larry was getting sloshed only a few blocks away. It was like a day job for these two buff fuckers, but for once in his life Larry felt no fear from the two and stopped mid stride, eyes dull and emotionless, staring holes through his mighty foes. Whilst ignoring the goo that was sliding down his leg and onto the concrete below.

“Ain’t got nuthin ta say tuff guy? Well then hows about you fork over da cash now so we don’t have ta break inta your house later tonight and show ya how we do things in Brooklyn?” The two took a few steps forward, until Tommy was face to face with the undead man, his chin just a few centimetres above Larry’s, but the smaller man didn’t even flinch. A flash was all it took for Larry to dig his sharp carnivorous teeth into the Italians neck, digging deeper with every chomp as he used his weight to force the man to the ground.

A mixture of gurgles and downright shrills escaped the eye-ties lips, as he struggled hard with his much stronger attacker, whilst Paulie repeated brought his fists down on the zombies back. All of this was futile however, and once Larry felt his teeth meet, he pulled back with a tremendous force and tore out a massive hunk of flesh from Tommy’s neck, the wound pulsating and squirting as the mobster brought his hand up to cover it.

“YOU SICK FUCK!” Screamed Tommy as the blood poured between his finger tips. Hungrily Larry gobbled down the mouthful of flesh before realizing that Paulie was desperately swinging at him, and grabbing one of the new victim’s arms, he twisted hard and brought it to his mouth, repeating the same thing he’d done to Tommy on the other Italian thug.

Now both were bleeding generously, coating the still warm concrete with their plasma and DNA. Noticing the crowd that had gathered, phones and all, around the scene, Larry abandoned his meals and charged for the crowd, eliciting shrill shrieks of terror as bystanders leapt from his path. One of these was very unlucky, as the muscled shell of Larry pounced on his frail frame and took him to the ground in a heap. His screams were chomped short by the vicious biting by Larry as he chewed on his trachea, gobbling the chunk of flesh he’d removed in a flash before moving on for more by giving chase to the civilians who were now fleeing the scene.

Mind you, this was all taking place in Brooklyn, in the middle of the day, and as such there were many civilians around for Larry to devour, and one by one they fell to his unrelenting chompers. He’d chase one, find another standing watching the sight and pounce on that poor fucker, knocking the man, women, or child off balance and eating his flesh right there on the Little Italy sidewalk.

Terror spread like wildfire, and cops were soon on the scene. Fresh screams from behind Larry, where he’d left his first two victims Paulie, and Tommy, pointed to the fact that they themselves had reanimated. It didn’t faze him however as he continued his chase of a screaming women, dressed in a full body jogging suit, who whilst sprinting across the street had brought Larry right in the sight of a patrol car that had pulled up, lights on and everything.

“Dispatch, we’ve got a belligerent suspect, send back-up…NOW!” Shouted the passenger into the radio as the bloodied form of Larry stopped mid stride in front of his cruiser, drawing the policemen’s eyes from first the blood that coated his clothes, to the blood that dripped from his chin, and the rest that coated his face, spotted with bits of flesh like some sort of sick splattered Pizza Pop. “Dear god…”

Like a good cop, the driver was out in a flash, sidearm drawn and pointed at Larry as he barked orders to the apparently crazed individual. Behind the man crowds panicked, running in crazed motions as other blooded individuals, all bleeding excessively from fresh wounds across their bodies chased down the none bleeding civilians one by one and devoured them.

“Hands on your head!” Came the policemen’s shaky voice, his gun hand trembling as his mind reeled in panic at the sight unfolding before him. Larry returned it with a deep, guttural growl, his left foot taking a step forward, followed by his right, and the two officers opened fire.

Their shots hit him center mass, knocking Larry slightly off balance, but more angering him as he charged for the driver, who’d been barking orders and dove at the open door, window rolled down, and shot straight through the hole like a dog through a hoop, taking the officer to the ground in a thud.

“Patrick!” Screamed the passenger as he bolted around the car and watched as his partner of nine years was gorged upon by the hunched form of Larry, whose attention was fixated solely on his meal. “You fucking bastard!” Came his scream again, and the officer raised his service pistol, taking aim on the man’s head and with a half-hearted prayer pulled the trigger.

BLAM!

The 9mm round exploded from the barrel and rifled through Larry’s skull, right in the back and right out the front, exiting his forehead and entering the first officers jaw, before lodging itself in his membrane. Vomit followed the bullet closely, as the passenger failed horribly at controlling his supper and joined the blood soaked cement with his own bile before whipping his chin and turning his attention on the second generation carriers. All seventeen of them…eighteen…twenty-five…oh god…

[END OF Don't Eat Meat]