charity_rose (![]() ![]() @ 2010-02-03 10:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | # solo, 2015-08-23, charity |
Welcome to the End of Everything
Waking up at the crack of dawn was nothing new to Charity Rose. Working on the freighters meant that every hour of daylight was important, and the habits of a sailor had been ingrained in her from a young age. There were times, however, where it was simply inappropriate to be up at such an ungodly hour. For example, when she’d been out to the wee hours of the morning drinking with an old friend and, like an ass, had forgotten to pull the shades on the east-facing window.
A patch of morning light fell across Charity’s face and she groaned, turning over and pulling a pillow over her head. But it was already too late; she surfaced slowly from her dream to a dry mouth and a throbbing headache, and there was no getting back to sleep after that. She rolled out of bed with a small noise of frustration and stumbled across the unfamiliar hotel room, eye mostly closed, to yank the curtains shut. God she felt gross – she was positive she was still wearing the clothes she had worn out the night before, and sweat made them cling to her skin. Slowly she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, gulping some water from her cupped hands and splashing the rest on her face.
“Reese, you fuckin’ jerk.” She should have known that the old dog would want to go out drinking on her first night in town, but she also shouldn’t have let him goad her into drinking so damn much. Though if even half of her disjointed memories of the previous evening were right, he was twice as ill as she was, the way he’d been knocking back the drinks. At least she stuck with beer, for the most part (albeit quite a lot of beer). But misery loved company, and simply the thought of her friend’s hangover brightened her morning a bit.
A shower was the first thing on her agenda. Charity stripped and stood under the water, eyes squeezed tight, letting all of yesterday’s grime wash off of her skin. The hangover symptoms eased slowly as she pressed her forehead against the cool plastic of the shower. She’d almost begun to enjoy herself when the water turned cold, very suddenly and completely. She leapt out with a startled yelp and began to swear like the sailor she was, wrenching the faucet off and grabbing for the thin, too-small towel. Fucking cheap motels couldn’t even have working showers.
Some vacation. Her mood stayed sour as she dressed and wandered out onto the street, following her nose to a little sandwich place. She’d deliberately left her cell phone back in the room, not feeling in the mood to deal with Reese’s bullshit again today. He was her friend, sure, but that didn’t mean she had to like him much. He was just the sort one could enjoy in small doses, but he was bound to want to do more ‘carousing’ sometime today, and she simply wasn’t in the mood.
The hangover had slowed her down enough that it was mid morning now. Her mind was intent on enjoying her mediocre sandwich and figuring out where she should go after this. South, maybe? She’d lived so long near the water that a road trip across a few deserts might be a nice change of pace. Or she could just end up miserable, it was hard to say. She was still planning out potential routes when she heard the first scream.
It didn’t sink in at first. Had there been an accident? She stood up, looking around for the source, and expecting others to do the same. A woman nearby dropped to the ground, twitching and foaming as her little son cried out and clawed at his own face. More screams rose like a chorus, all around her now as human forms fell and twisted on the street. It was so damn surreal that it couldn’t possibly be happening – a man stumbled out of a store, vomiting blood and keeling over. A dog tied to a parking meter convulsed and bubbled and began to change, its form growing monstrous as it pulled at its leash.
For a long moment – perhaps too long – Charity stood there, frozen, as the world collapsed around her. She had the odd impression that she was dreaming or hallucinating, because otherwise, why was she the only one standing untouched? In front of her, someone who had been sitting at a nearby table raised their head, skin still bubbling on its bones like it had melted into something more viscous and monstrous than flesh. It bared its teeth and struggled to pull itself up, but her paralysis didn’t break until the smell of sickness all around her suddenly became overbearing. And even then, her body started moving before her mind could sort out what was happening.
Charity ran for the water on instinct. She’d always felt safe there, or at least in control. But more importantly, it was less crowded near the river, and as little as she understood what was going on, she knew that she had to stay away from people. It didn’t take long to realize her mistake when a horrid crash reached her ears, followed by a blaring car alarm. The traffic! There weren’t as many people walking around near the river, but there were a hell of a lot of cars going every which way, and if whatever this strange nightmare was affected them as well… Charity spun, ready to hunt down another safe haven.
The creature that stood behind her might have been human once, but the strange… limbs (one couldn’t realistically call them ‘arms’) that stretched from its bloated flesh like dead branches warped its form. The monster let out a horrid cry and lunged for her, sending her reeling back into a building. There was another behind it, half-sized, like a child, and it stared at her with hungry, bloodshot eyes. She could hear the scuffled and thud of clawed feet as more figures too grotesque to be recognizable closed in around her. Charity pressed her body into an alcove, twisting sideways to fit and bringing up her arm to shield her face just as jaws clamped around her wrist, snapping the bone as easily as dry wood and savaging the flesh. Then there was just pain everywhere that the creatures could reach her, tearing through her left side. All she could do was stay curled in a protective ball and wait for death, praying even as the pain tore screams from her throat.
Funny, she hadn’t expected dying to hurt so much. Charity didn’t remember passing out, but she supposed she must have because instead of being wedged between buildings surrounded by monstrosities, she was lying on what felt like an old, rather lumpy couch. Her whole left side burned and twinged with every breath, but her arm was the worst. It ached and itched like it’d been asleep for a long time, throbbing all the way down to the bone. For a long time, she didn’t dare to open her eyes.
There was, however, the undeniable sound of someone moving about near her. So, fearing the worse, she cracked open her eyes. The older man who was peering nervously out a nearby window was, to say the least, not what she’d expected. Had she hallucinated the whole thing? But if so, why wasn’t she in a hospital? The man turned, startling a little when he saw her awake.
“You’re awake, child? I hadn’t expected…” He strode over, wringing his hands nervously. “How are you feeling? Be careful now, you’re… not in good shape.”
“What happened, Father?” Charity could see the priest’s collar now, as she struggled to sit up, fighting against a sudden wave of nausea. Her left arm didn’t particularly want to respond, so she propped herself up with her right and took a few large gulps of air. “I’ll… be fine. I… were there really monsters?” She wanted him to tell her that she’d dreamt the whole thing.
The look on the older gentleman’s face immediately told her otherwise. “I’m afraid so, child. As far as I know, you and I are the only ones left alive and… unchanged.” He frowned down at her, reaching out to help her sit up. “Careful! Your injuries…”
Charity glanced down, paling suddenly at the sight of her torn and bloodied sleeve hanging empty from her left shoulder. It hurt, yes. Her arm hadn’t been responding since she woke up, but she’d expected to find it broken, perhaps. Not plain gone.
“I did my best, but I’m afraid I’m not doctor. You’ve been out for the better part of a day. We were lucky those creatures are as quick to attack each other as anything else, or I might not have been able to get you away from them.”
“How?” She turned away, trying not to dwell on the stump that had been her arm. “You said you’re alone, and they were… everywhere. How the hell’d you get me out anyway?”
“It seems –“ The Father sighed and sat down on a nearby crate “– that in this time of great need the Lord provided me the means to come to your aide. Be skeptical if you wish!” He smiled tightly when he caught Charity’s expression, “But answer me this; why us? Why have we alone been spared from this plague that’s devastated the whole city, if not beyond?” He caught Charity’s eyes, his gaze clear, sharp, and entirely sincere. “I choose to believe that the Lord has spared us for a reason. That he has plans for us, even now. Especially now.”
“You still think there’s a fuckin’ god out there after all this?” She felt so goddamned weak, gulping air as she tried to keep her mind clear. While some might say it was a ‘miracle’ that she was alive at all, Charity couldn’t imagine any sort of God who’d allow the things she’d seen out on the streets.
For a long moment, the preacher was silent. They listened together to the faint, unearthly shrieks out on the streets; there was nothing human about those cries. “Yes,” he spoke finally, nodding thoughtfully to himself. “Without my faith, I am just a tired, old man. And yet I am alive when so many others are not, and I was able to save you. And if you and I are alive, child, I’m sure there are others.”
Charity sat with the man – who introduced himself as Father Ray – and ate a little bread that he brought her (she couldn’t stomach more). They were, she learned, in the sitting room of his church, and the kitchen still had some basic foodstuffs from their last community potluck. “I’ve never been so glad that the church was empty,” the Father chuckled, and Charity watched him in awe, stunned at how he could be so calm. But he was undeniably pleasant company, although he refused to elaborate on how, exactly, he’d managed to save her from the monsters.
Father Ray checked her bandages that evening. Her left side was cut up shallowly by teeth and nails, but the arm was the worst of it. They had managed to tear it clean off before he got her out, and the best he could to was jerry-rig a tourniquet from her belt to stop the bleeding. “You should be all right, so long as nothing gets infected.”Charity simply nodded. The lie was pleasant, but without someone who knew more than basic first aid, she didn’t expect that she would last long.
“We should head out tomorrow, Father. We need somewhere that’s got a better food supply, at the very least. Maybe find other survivors.”
“We’ll see how fit you are for moving about. You’re better off than I expected, but you shouldn’t make light of your condition…“ He glanced up sharply as Charity tried to protest. “Shh! What was that?” She hadn’t heard anything, but it was the first time she’d seen the Father seem anything more than mildly concerned, so she shut up and watched him.
There was a faint scrabbling sound at the edge of her hearing, then a loud, sudden crack as something rammed open the door several rooms away like it was made of plywood. Father Ray was on his feet almost before it happened.
“Miss Charity, there’s a back exit down that hall. You’ll see a bulkhead outside.” He tossed her a key ring hurriedly. “I’ll meet you there, go.”
“But I can’t –“ She wasn’t about to leave the Father to face one of those monsters alone.
“Trust me.” His eyes met hers for a long moment. They seemed too young for his face, and filled with an almost serene confidence. Charity hesitated, picked up the keys from where they’d fallen, and ran.
The sounds that followed her down the hall continued to haunt her as she sat huddled in the dark basement; the creature screaming and howling as if it were in pain, the thumps and bangs as it thrashed, and above it all, Father Ray’s voice praying cold and clear and fearless. Charity counted the seconds as they passed, then the minutes.
When those minutes blended together into hours, she finally admitted to herself that the Father was not coming back.