Everyone knows the mindless bloodlust of the zombie. But what happens when you wake to find that your mental faculties are still there...?
Missed out on previous parts? Well go back and dive in! I'll be waiting for you...
Welcome to Part 7 - the final part.... you gore-hungry warrior...
The pantry door was a step away. Once the final echoes of scream faded Marshall stood, his primitive puppeteer waiting for something that he must’ve sensed, though Marshall could not for the life of him tell what. But then he heard it, the pathetic whimpering, only really indicated by the muffled huffs and puffs as whoever it was that was hiding in the pantry tried their hardest to keep silent.
It was in there. The intoxicating aroma that tickled his nostrils and made his head spin. Before he knew it he reached out and wrapped the fingers from his shaking hand around the doorknob. One small tug and it swung wide easily enough. And, of course, there she was.
Bella stared up at him with twinkling, water-lined eyes, and in that moment he felt more than ever the overwhelming desire to pick her up and hug her. It was that maternal instinct that brought waves of memories over him just as quickly as the flashes from his paralysis (which he was now suspecting had been something much stronger than he’d ever thought). Plunging into the pools of her eyes he emerged in the hospital, feeling her weight for the first time as the doctor handed over Bella’s naked body. Marshall looked at Julia and in that shared moment it was the closest he’d ever felt to being part of something bigger than himself.
Ripples and blurs, next he was in the living room of his first house, a heap of shit rental from the council on an estate where there were more people than houses. In his hand was an old JVC camcorder aimed at a six-month old Bella as she matted her hair with the sauce of some mushed dish. Julia’s laugh tinkled in his ears and brought a flush to his cheek. They kissed, then, realising the camera was filming the floor, adjusted the sight.
A flash of light and a crash of drums and now he was in her bedroom, Bella in that flannel pyjama set that she had once refused to take off for an entire week. She was nestled against his neck as he stroked her hair, shushing gently into her ear as the rain hammered against the window, telling her it was all going to be okay, and that it would all soon pass.
Now, that was all that he wished to tell her again. He wished to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair behind her ear, kiss her cheek and tell her that everything was going to be okay. That it would all soon pass. That whatever the hell was going on was only temporary and they would all soon be back together as a family. There was a split second where he, once again, asked the question, Where is Julia, but it was gone the moment that their eyes met, and Bella gave up all pretence of hiding, unleashing a scream so fear-filled and dreadful that Marshall wished that he could just close his eyes and not witness the lines that pained her face, the tears that streamed.
But he couldn’t. Marshall endured it all, waiting hopelessly for it to finish.
Her lungs emptied. Her voice died.
Marshall crouched. He became aware of his nostrils flaring and, oh God, there was that sickly sweet aroma that spoke of a deliciousness that he could not describe. A smell that could be described as orange in colour, and in emotions as ecstasy. It flew around his body and warmed him, and it was with a terrible horror that he realised now where the smell was coming from, and what it was that was soon to happen.
He leaned towards the smell, trying with every block of mental strength he had to do the opposite. In no TV show, or book, or film had he ever envisioned this. To be a zombie seemed a mindless thing, something that turned the body into an empty vessel bent only on the instinct and desire of food. But to remain a conscious form of yourself, with your body operating against your will. Well… that was a fate much worse than a second death.
Bella… Run… Run. FOR FUCK’S SAKE, RUN!
Translation: Gruruuughhguh.
As Marshall smelt the sweet, salty warmth of Bella’s skin, he thought once more of that morning. How he had chosen to hide away in his office, rather than see the gleaming smile on this poor girl’s face. And as his teeth rested against gristly thickness of her neck, he relinquished control of it all, knowing that it was all beyond his ability to understand or change.
As was the delirious satisfaction that came from the taste of that first bite.
END
And there it is folks! Hope you enjoyed. I'll see what treats I have lined up for you over the next couple of days in terms of stories, and if you can't wait for that, then check out my brothers at digital story studio Hawk & Cleaver.
Until next time...