The lumbering corpse doesn't really see
David, all he sees is: blood, life, meat.
But
David sees the corpse who used to be Justin from #10B; he knows
that apartment up and down and he knows Justin enough that tears well
up as he recognizes what used to be him under the peeling putrid skin and milky pupils.
The
thing corners him behind a Carvel shop; now half blown up from some
riot or another.
David's
got a bad leg, which he injured jumping a third story roof to get away
from an endless line of corpses, and there's nowhere to go, so he falls to his knees in the
narrowing gap between the Carvel and the Kinko's, praying.
As the
thing that is not Justin rips into his lower bowel with its decimated grey
fingers and he screams at no one, he wonders if some part of the
corpse remembers that morning when Justin walked into #10B to see his
wife up against the refrigerator, mouth parted and wet, with David's
hand shoved down into her jeans.
lost my first comment! Here it goes again (lol): Erin, your story is wonderfully told, with just enough description to heighten the action. Your writing, as Odd Particle would say, is of the awesome!
ReplyDeleteThanks! Er, totally not inspired by having watched a lot of Walking Dead lately. :-P
ReplyDeleteGruesomely good. I enjoyed the piece, but after breakfast would have been better than before, I guess. :)
ReplyDeleteWicked! I love it :)
ReplyDeleteWow! That's all I can say. WOW! Oh and AWESOME!
ReplyDeleteThank you thank you!
ReplyDeleteAnd because of this, I decided to go with wicked at this week's FSF word. Thank you ;)
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