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Child of the Plague This story may contain adult content. |
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| Written by Paul Vigg | |
| Thursday, 06 March 2008 | |
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Share it:      Child of the Plague
Walking through these halls I see it all, as if anyone could miss it. I see the people who want to look at me, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, the faces that turn away, and the horrified eyes of those who won't look at all. They'd rather pretend I don't exist. And then there's ones who pretend they aren't looking, but I feel their eyes on me. They all know what I've done, you see, and what I'm still doing. They shun me and avoid me because of my lover, my lover who is dead.
‘Why exactly should I be interested in this particular corpse?' Sandra asked in a dry tone, idly stirring her fifth cup of instant coffee. It was the only kind they had anymore, since the world had crumbled away. ‘Because I'm not like any other corpse you've ever seen before,' said a voice from the table beside her. Sandra's eyes darted up from the swirling brown liquid she was concentrating on and locked with those of the body she had only a moment ago been virtually oblivious to. It sat up slowly and smiled amiably. ‘He's right you know,' said Professor Jaimes, one of the few remaining qualified people in the world, ‘he's been right about a lot of things. For instance he told me his name, where he used to live and the names of everyone in his family, who, incidentally, are also corpses, but not quite like this one,' It was a strange tableau, the tiny, bare white and grey steel room, the scrubbed clean silver table, Sandra on one side, Jaimes on the other and the very relaxed aberration between them. Sandra saw dead bodies every day and most of them moved too. They were the bodies of the living dead, zombies as the general populace, which was now quite small, called them. However, those bodies never spoke and they certainly never smiled amiably at her. ‘What the hell is this?' Sandra said. Her eyes flickered from Jaimes' bespectacled face to the dead man on the table and back again several times. ‘He appears to have reacted rather differently to the virus than any other person we've seen so far. He's retained a totally coherent self-awareness, memories, motor skills and speech,' Jaimes said. He was writing things on a clipboard as they came in to his head, and also seemed to be taking notes on everything the body on the table did. ‘My name is Harvey,' the body said, holding out a hand to Sandra. Pausing for only a moment she walked over to him and shook it. ‘Sandra,' she said. She found herself unable to move her eyes away from his, they were large and deep and a dark brown colour, with only a hint of the sickening yellow of jaundiced showing around the pupils.. She felt as if she was sinking in to them. In some other part of her mind her years of medical training were appraising him. He was male, perhaps six foot something in height, slim build, in good shape. He showed no signs of ill health other than the slight drying of his skin and the pale tone that came from lack of any blood flow at all. ‘How long has he been dead?' she asked. ‘About two days, give or take,' Harvey said before the Professor could speak. ‘You remember dying?' Sandra asked, horrified. A million questions began to filter through her mind. ‘Not exactly,' Harvey said, in a voice that Sandra now noticed was smooth and confident, ‘I remember getting sick, sicker than I've ever been, and collapsing in the street. When I woke up again I was...here,' Sandra's eyes traveled over his body slowly. She maintained in her own mind that she was trying to work out how he'd been infected, but in reality she was beginning to notice just how in shape he was, how well formed his features were and how rich and thick his hair was, how strong his arms were. ‘I don't understand,' she said, ‘how were you infected? I don't see any wounds,' Harvey rolled over on to his side and Sandra saw the huge, red raw bite mark on his lower back. It was dry and cracking because his body wasn't healing it. It would have been unbearably painful had Harvey been able to feel anything. ‘Have you got any idea how this might have happened?' Sandra asked, turning to Professor Jaimes. The Professor looked at her and simply shrugged.
That was the first time I met him and it made a strong impression on me. What disturbed me most was that I had looked at his body with desire even though I knew it was dead. Over the next few months we conducted all kinds of experiments on him to try and find how he had managed to stay aware and stable when every other person we had seen infected had become a mindless creature filled with a violent hunger, which first made them consume anything edible they could find, and when that was gone, they ate whatever they could, which included the still living among them. We used all kinds of fluids and chemicals to preserve his body but we knew it was a losing battle. After three months he had deteriorated only a little, but it was only a matter of time before he began to break down beyond our control.
Harvey watched impassively as Sandra eased another syringe full of preserving agents in to his leg. It still made her feel queasy the way that he would watch her do it, even though she knew he couldn't feel a thing. ‘You know, I've spent a lot of time virtually naked and in your company over the past few months. It seems like we're missing out on something,' he said, grinning. Sandra raised an eyebrow and strolled away from him. The comment had sent a whole complex of emotions into erratic motion inside her and she had to turn away to hide her confusion. There was disgust, but also curiosity, revulsion, but a strange sort of attraction too. She turned around again and for a moment saw him how she thought he would look alive, vital and handsome and powerfully sexual. ‘Are you thinking the same thing I am?' he asked. Sandra jolted as she realized she had been staring at him. ‘I don't know what you mean,' she said and turned away again to load another syringe full of embalming liquid. He was right behind her then, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to face him. For a split second her heart leaped, she thought he had become like the others, that she was about to die. He only held her though, looking down in to her eyes. This close she could see what he really looked like, so pale and dry, yet somehow she felt a desire for him. ‘Sandra,' he said, a single word that was loaded with so much desire it overwhelmed her. She leaned forward and they kissed.
That first kiss should also have been the last one, but it wasn't. Before long I was smuggling him in to my room for the night. Not long after that the rumors started and eventually the truth was out. There was horror and shock and for a while I almost feared for my life, feared that they would throw both me and Harvey out of the compound where he would have to live in a wasteland of wandering monsters, and I would be torn apart by the legions of dead that couldn't feel the way he could.
Sandra flung her head back and moaned with sweet pleasure. Harvey rolled away from her and they both lay in a pleasant warm daze, she was drenched with sweat, but he, as usual, was not. It was a little known fact that the undead, who were normally unfeeling, could gain moments of sensation through intense stimulation. Sandra and Harvey were the first to discover this, as far as they knew. ‘That wound on my side split again,' Harvey said, sighing. It was a pure affectation, he no longer needed to breath, yet he could make use of his lungs when he wanted to. ‘Sorry,' Sandra said. They were both fully aware that physical activity of any kind would only speed up the decline of Harvey's body, but they were unable to help themselves. They were also aware there was a time limit on their relationship and so they weren't wasting any. ‘What do you think Professor Jaimes will do with me once I've become too ruined to use in experiments?' Harvey asked. ‘I suspect he'll want you sent outside,' Sandra replied. ‘I suppose that's the best thing,' Harvey said. Sandra turned to look at him and frowned, shocked by his resignation to such a fate. ‘You know I won't let them do that right?' she asked him. Harvey didn't reply, just stared vacantly at the ceiling. ‘You won't want to do this with me when my skin is too split to repair and I'm too decayed to perform, now will you?' he said vaguely. The thought of it often stabbed at Sandra in unexpected moments but she had always pushed it away until now. It was true, the bizarre attraction she felt for him couldn't last through his continued deterioration. ‘I'll still love you though,' she said, and kissed his cheek. Harvey rolled over to look at her and there was something in his eyes that frightened her. ‘I don't want you to see me become a rotting thing, like the millions outside, I don't want you to see me like that,' he said, his voice fiercely intent. ‘But...' Sandra began, and then Harvey rolled out of the bed and stood naked in front of her. ‘Look at me, even now,' he said. She couldn't hide from the plainly visible truth, his skin was beginning to rot in patches, one of his hands had ceased to work and he had become terribly thin. He looked, for the first time, like a walking corpse. ‘How long will it be before this won't work?' he asked, grabbing his groin, ‘Or before the rot inside me begins to stink too badly for you to cover up with chemicals?' Sandra turned away, her eyes welling with tears. It was all true, but how could she face it? Not just because he was her lover, but it was just too grotesque to admit. How could she ever face the fact that the man she slept with nearly every night now was an undead creature that was rotting inside as he made love to her?
Walking through the halls I see it all, as if anyone could miss it. But they don't even know, they won't know for several months yet, the true terror of my situation. Because I'm going to find Harvey now, find him and tell him what we've done. I'm going to find my decaying undead lover and tell him that I'm pregnant with his child.
By Paul Vigg, read more at www.freewebs.com/paulwhowrites
Copyright 2008 Paul Vigg |
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