I need a title!!!

Currently I have about 5 fiction stories dancing around in my head – and am having a hard time getting any/all of them out.  So, on suggestion, I’m going to use this blog partly to release one of these ideas.  The plan is simple – to release a new chapter every week or so.  This story is a short story (flirting with the title Phase 1), but I do have some ideas on fleshing it out into a much longer piece.  We’ll see how it goes.  Remember to leave a comment, as this goes I will look to your ideas on the final direction of this tale.

Chapter 1 – Uncontrollable

Bite after bite, the tearing of muscle fibers between the remaining teeth in my mouth become easier to manage.  By now, the routine of satisfying basic nourishment should be customary to me.  Kneeling in a pile of dirt, my knees bare of clothes, and to that matter – skin, I barely make out the final whimper of the poor creature in my hands.  Blood continues to bath my mouth as the small animal in my hands slowly dies.

I feel myself rise in place and with the limited vision left in my eyes, I’m able to see that I am moving again.  With my appetite sated momentarily, the control over my eyes start to lessen as my body once again becomes beholden to the virus.  I begin to wonder how much longer it will be before I have to endure the sight of my strong urges winning over my desires.

The increase in both my hearing and sense of smell always amazes me after a meal.  I’ve lost count of the days a long time ago, but vague recollections of laying motionless, trapped in the snow, remind me that at least two seasons have passed since the virus took its hold.  If I knew then the state I would’ve ended up in, there wouldn’t have been any hesitation in turning that gun on myself.

With my ears and nose operating at super levels, my vision slowly returns to further remind me of the world as it is now.  The stretch of road before me is sparsely littered with those unlucky enough to share my present condition.  As I move I wish I could call out to them, to see if they are afflicted in the same way I am.  ‘Always looking for answers!’  Those were the words constantly said about me by Lauren.  My once beautiful Lauren who I saw mangled and destroyed by this virus.  I struggle to release a tear, to ball my fist, to have any physical reaction at all.  As usual the cold reality that my body is no longer mine to control slaps me back to my senses.

My vision begins to change as the sun begins its descent into darkness.  No longer viewing the world on a spectrum normal to man, my eyes begin to pick up every heat signature within a 3 mile radius.  I’ve been able to distinguish at least between the Breathers and those who are like me.  As the flickering signs of my peers shuffle around me, various steady signatures can be seen in the distance.  I still haven’t figured out how my body determines which of the steady’s to go after.

Armed with the increased hearing and smell, satisfying the hunger always becomes easier at night.  The uninfected who at this point haven’t learned how to survive have come to meet the night’s hour with unspeakable fear.  A fear that makes finding and ending them much easier than I could’ve imagined.

– POP! – POP! – POP!  With the loud thundering shots, all of the flickering signatures within my field of vision begin moving in the direction of the apparent gunfire.  I try to prevent myself from moving in that direction, still trying to grasp some of the control that my long hunger afforded me.  I know what will happen if I found myself among the Breathers and being so long with a conscious mind, so close to finding a way to overcome the virus’ effects will totally be undone.

A fourth shot rings lonely in the air.  My slow, shuffled steps start to take on a more hurried pace.  As if awakened by the prospect of inflicting death, the sparse beat of my heart floods my body with the resurgent virus.  The world opens up even more as I again witness my body prepare itself to satisfy this hunger with the kind of meal it needs for survival.  The familiar aroma of warm coursing blood floods my nose and my body reacts as it begins to dart straight for the nexus of this scent.  The once barely filled street is now becoming crowded a bit more with my new kin who seem to appear out of nowhere.  Our moans of hunger now replace the still air that those shots ruptured.

Normally, screams should be dancing through the air by now if what lied ahead were a normal pack of Breathers.  A pack of us this large would almost dissolve the psyche of a group so small.  The closer I get, the smell of blood grows stronger.  The five steady heat signatures up ahead seem to stand in place, as if awaiting this coming horde of shuffle footed demons.  A couple hundred flickering signatures now stand between me and those five damned souls that still haven’t moved up ahead.

As the horde moves closer, the heat signatures, for a moment, flare up similar to an athlete’s right before performing a feat.  Mid-flare, a bevy of thunderous gunshots are thrown into our horde.  Body after mangled body drops under the weight of gunfire.  Many of the shots target the head, as well as separating the arms and legs of some of us.  Panic takes over my mind as I use all of my willpower to stop myself from advancing into the slaughter.

The head of the body directly in front of me explodes upon impact with a bullet that eventually pierces my chest.  The recoil knocks me back as both the headless one and I crumble onto the ground.  My mouth still chattering, moans still singing in the air, I lay there as more and more are decimated by the well planned hands of those five Breathers.

“I totally kill-…  You ain’t -…”  I can barely make out the voices but it is clear that the gun portion of this meeting is done.  In place of the sounds of war, the relief of survivors fill the night’s air.  My hearing fades in and out as my body tries to assess the damage inflicted.  Times like this I am thankful that I can’t feel pain.

“Destroy their brains.  Decapitate as many as you can but save your strength.  We have a long hike back to camp.”  This voice of authority I hear perfectly as I try with all my will to see anything.  As my eyes move under my own control I feel the need to scream out in excitement.  With my head perched to the side, I’m able to catch glimpses of two people hacking at the heads of the afflicted.

I roll my eyes around the sockets a bit and just bask in the relief of having some control over my self again.  If only I could yell at them and tell them how futile their actions are.  The head isn’t as important as the heart!  In moments, the wound in my chest will heal and as the virus regains control of every part of my body again, I will be up, searching for more food.  such minor wounds I’ve found take longer to heal.

A loud scream sends the small group into a fevered state as I watch one member fall to the ground in terror near to me.  Those head wounds at this point should be freshly healed, meaning many of the horde will be up and ready to feast in moments.  As I move my eyes and follow the scurrying Breather on the ground, my eyes become locked off to me once again.  In the darkness, all I see now is a lone heat signature, scurrying within my reach.  The flickering signs of my kin can be found in a few clusters, clammering at each other for a piece of the other members of the group.

I scream in silence as my nose is once again filled with the aroma of his blood.  My arm shoots out with a clenched grip onto this poor soul.  My body awakens again, the hunger driving me out from under others just as hungry but unable to move as yet.  Within no time my mouth is filled with flesh, his blood entering my body and fueling me – no, fueling the virus – with new life.  Bite after bite I consume this man whose screams stopped a while ago.  As the world fades away around me, the night’s air is no longer still with the sounds of life.  Death, once again, triumphs over all.

Thousand (or so) Word Challenge – Part 5

Wall Street Hustle

Served Cold

Sitting close to the door of the small deli, Peter sat in quiet thought as his sandwich lay untouched in front of him.  For a third time since he’s been at the deli, his phone vibrates; dancing across the table’s top screaming for his attention.  Despite the never ending dance, Peter continues to ignore the call, knowing exactly who waited on the other end.  Finally picking up the sandwich, he gives the small interior space a quick glance, noticing how busy it was.  Each table was filled and as was the case in the Big City, he knew his lonely table would not remain that way for too long.

“Is anyone sitting here?” asked a woman’s voice, breaking through Peter’s concentration through the window.  As he turned to her, he immediately noticed her beauty.  Her long black hair cascading from her knit hat, the sweater left unbuttoned all the way down, the image of his own spectacled face through her thick lenses; Peter only needed a moment to invite her to sit down.

“No, this seat is yours if you want it.” Peter replied, trying to avoid looking or sounding foolish.  Before she could sit down however, he noticed her attention quickly shift to another person within the deli that she waved over to her.  As this man towered past Peter to reach the last available seat at the table, the smile all but disappeared from his face.  With his sandwich almost finished, Peter stayed at the table while the couple whisked off into their own world before his eyes.  Despite the number of people both sitting and standing with their lunches, Peter began to feel lonelier than ever.

The automated sound of birds chirping played lowly against the many conversations within the deli.  Reaching for his phone, Peter knew what this chime meant for the rest of his day.  Swiping the large screen cleared the reminder from view and ended the mockingbird tunes.  Peter excused himself from the table and within moments of getting up, the large man that he had briefly shared the table with immediately placed his bag on the chair.  Sheepishly, Peter left the deli and stood outside for a moment within the shadows of the voluminous buildings surrounding him.  Just as he began to walk, his phone once again buzzed.  This time however, he chose to answer it.

“Where have you been Peter?  I have been worried sick about you!” screamed a woman’s voice through the phone.  Peter gripped the phone a bit tighter as he grits his teeth in anger.

“Why would you act like you care now?  What does it matter to you where I have been?” he fired back at the voice on the other end of the phone.  Without giving a moment for her to answer, Peter continued on.

“You have made it quite clear that I am not who you want or love.  So please do not call me acting as if you suddenly are concerned about me Jennifer.  You have made it clear who it is you care about.”

“That is not fair Peter, you cannot tell me who I love or care for.  When I first told you about all of this I told I made a mistake and that I now see that you are the one for me” she replied through a strained, tired voice.  Peter now found himself standing in a doorway to hear her better as the breeze refused to cooperate with him.

“How convenient of you to come to that decision after you’ve been with him Jennifer.  You must take me for a fool.  A damned fool.  Regardless of what lies you need to fill yourself with, you decision is clear as this day to me.  And thus, my decision is just as clear as to what I need to do.  I hate that I’ve wasted my life on you Jennifer, I hope you can live with the choices you’ve made and the effects that they will have.”  In fury, Peter ends the call and throws the phone into his open satchel.  Laying there, gleaming back at him from within the bag – a small .25 caliber firearm.

While hastily walking two long blocks, Peter could not escape the many thoughts running through his mind.  For too many years, Jennifer had been his entire world and without her, he felt nothing but loss.  Looking back, he kicked himself for feeling any amount of shock at their relationship ending in this way.  All his life he searched in the wrong places to find a reason for being, and with this latest occurrence, he found himself losing the will to search anymore.  As he continued on, his long strides decreased in distance as his pace dwindled down.  Was it nervousness? Fear of doing the wrong thing?  Worry of the unknown?  Would she even miss him when he was gone or would she just move on, having never cared.  Peter didn’t know any of the answers to the questions running through his mind, but he knew that the choices he already made were all that he had left.

Reaching his determined location, Peter opened his satchel and looked inside once again.  Underneath the gun was a picture that Peter grabbed quickly out of his bag.  For a moment, he looked at the picture with a smile.  In light of the situation surrounding him and Jennifer, he couldn’t understand exactly why he was smiling.  Nonetheless, he spent a few more minutes staring at the beautiful couple in the pic before crumpling it up and throwing it into the waste basket of a street cleaner standing near.

“You have a good day man, you never know when it’ll be your last.” said the cleaner in a nonchalant manner.

“Sometimes, you do.” replied Peter, eerily.  After standing at the corner for a few moments, someone caught Peter’s attention exiting a building within the distance.  Though not close up, Peter could tell who it was.  Without needing the picture within his hands, having burned the image into his mind, Peter made out the younger guy a few hurried paces away from him.  Slipping his hand within the satchel while maintaining his focus on the younger man, Peter made sure his sidearm was easily in reach.  Breaking his visual hold on him, Peter closed his eyes to see his Jennifer in the arms of this younger man, reminding him of why he was there at that moment.  Opening his eyes, Peter continued his measured pursuit of the younger man, accompanied with vivid visions of emptying a few rounds through his black shirt, and his black heart.