The Hunt

The smell…  here?  Is it here?  No… Where?  Smell it.  Breathe.  Grunt, move forward.  Legs stiff, arms jittery.  Was it like this… always?  Smell, right.  Go right.  Right foot.  Left foot.  Go, move, smell it.  Breathe.  The twitching came first.  Eyes rolling, all fuzzy.  Then, just the smell, overwhelming, powerful.  Must follow.  Must find.  Must eat.

Don’t remember before smell.  Before hunger.  Only dark.  Some shadows, blurry faces.  Some thoughts.  Remember feelings, but don’t.  Where they go?  The smell.  Overpowers else.  Right foot, left foot.  Don’t remember walking.  Hard, everything sticks.  Cells broken, unsent messages.  Right foot, left foot.  Follow smell.  Ahead, further, hungry.  Push, thud, drag, push.  Ahead.  See?  Eyes fuzzy.  Arms raise.  Right foot, left foot.  Smell, food, hunger, hungry.  Need, want.  Desire.  Eyes focus.  Smell.  Silhouette.  Walking food.  No, running food.  Smell fainter.  Food running.  Eyes unfocus.  Cannot see.  Smell goes.  Hunger.

Sigh, if can.  Unsure.  One feeling, no, two feelings.  Hunger, emptiness.  Almost like, remember, sorrow.  Disappointment.  Remember, one moment, confusion, lost.  Realize change.  Realize hunger.  Hunger for people, walk for hunger, live for hunger.  Remember bite, biting, ripping.  Remember family.  Eyes blurrier.  Wet face, hot face.  Smell, my smell.  My smell spilling out.  Fading, blackness.  My smell on pavement, shattered, broken, like one memory.

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This is dedicated to my sister - she gave me the idea, sort of.  Anyway, she told me to write about the zombie Apocalypse, and I feel like that's overdone... and that I probably couldn't write it as well as I would want to - either that or I would find my inner Palahniuk and write so graphically that I make people vomit.  You know, either way.  Tomorrow I'll be posting from the other perspective, of the "running food."