I can feel them; their eyes watch me everywhere I go. How did it get to this? Seven people barricaded in a house under the hungry eyes of the dead. I look into those eyes, those cold, dead eyes, and every time I do it's like looking in a mirror. Is there hunger really that different than mine? Can I control it any more than they can?
This all began, for me at least, two weeks ago. That was the first time I saw her. Ellen Pierson. Ellen Wilma Pierson, white female, age 23, height 5'3, hair blonde cause of death exsanguination. That's what it would say on her death certificate. They couldn't describe how serene she had looked as the last drop of life left her. She was my eighth; she was my first.
There was something perverse, for me, in conducting an autopsy on one of my victims, but it being my job I could hardly refuse. Still, that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst part was listening to my intern.
"Damn shame, she looks like a lovely girl." He says, his eyes lingering too long on her naked form for my liking. I scoffed.
"Please, Andrew, she has two arrests for prostitution and another for drug possession." She was not lovely. "Now, if you wouldn't mind making the first incision." He looked at me nervously; he had never done this before. I enjoyed watching him squirm for a moment. "Relax, boy, she won't bite you."
He leaned over her chest, his hands trembling. That's when it happened. Her limp, pale body sat up. Her teeth tearing the flesh from Andrew's neck. I watched him scream in pain, watched him die. I did nothing.
"Karl, are you with us buddy?" I managed to tear my eyes away from the window and face Robert. His brown eyes looked concerned. I was the doctor of the group, but Robert was the one they came to for advice. We each had our roles. Lillian was the leader, she had been in some armed force, and no one opposed her. Jeffrey had been an accountant or the like and had taken charge of inventory. The brothers Adrian and Patrick were in charge of defence - barricading and execution. Jane was our scout, she'd go up to the roof and look for people. Then Robert and I.
I looked around at them all; they were all terrified, though most tried not to show it. Me: I was hungry. I wish it was a hunger I could sate with food but it wasn't. It deeper than that, darker; it was the same hunger I felt the first time I saw Ellen Pierson. The hunger for blood. I realised Robert was still staring at me.
fine. It's just
You're a religious man. Are those things even human anymore?" I asked Robert. I had turned my back on God years ago, but in the wake of this it was hard to maintain my lack of faith.
"No, Karl. They're not human: they're monsters. They don't feel pity or remorse, they don't sympathise with others. They want nothing but to kill us." He replied solemnly. I looked out the window again, into the night. I stared into blue eyes, cold and dead eyes. I stared at the haggard face and the scruffy hair.
"Monsters indeed." I replied, turning from my reflection.