Category: Fiction

Test Drive – Part 1

Published by Robert on April 8, 2016

So what do you say I post another story?

This one is pretty old. The original draft was written back in high school (approximately 197 years ago, for those keeping score). I decided to submit it to the annual student magazine, where it was judged by a literary professor at the University of Nebraska – Lincoln.

I’m not certain how, but it took first place. This fact is even more strange when you consider that due to an unfortunate error in the editing process, a full three paragraphs of my story was accidentally omitted from the magazine. Maybe I should have taken this as a sign regarding how I should edit my stories? I don’t know.

I do know that I had always felt the writing was a bit clumsy, so I really was honestly shocked when it won.

It’s pretty much been sitting in my files, confined to a darker corner for punishment, banishment, or maybe just to keep some of my other weird ideas company. After firing up this blog, I had the notion to bring it into the light, polish up the prose a bit, update a few things here and there, and toss it at you guys to see what you think.

I might have more to say about it later. Things that shouldn’t be said before you read it. So see you on the other side…

Test Drive

by Robert Wurth

Part 1

“That one,” said the voice.

“No. That’ll be the third one this month. That’s too many, too soon.”

There was a pause. “I said that one.” The voice grumbled in anger. Then followed silence in the small office save for the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights.

Jack Krander threw his hands up in defeat. “Whatever,” he said with a sigh. He turned and glanced out of his office window. He could see a man standing out there casually looking at the cars. “You know,” Jack said without turning from the window. “Missing persons reports are piling up.” The voice did not respond. “Won’t be long before the police make some kind of connection and start asking questions.” He turned and glared at the small intercom box on his desk. Still the voice did not respond. “All right,” Jack said at last. “But this is it! No more for awhile.”

Jack’s face contorted with expressions mirroring the anger and desperation wrestling for control in his mind. He stalked to his office door and grasped the doorknob. He hesitated before turning it, allowing himself a few seconds to compose himself. By the time Jack stepped out of his office, his professionalism took over and a large salesman’s grin, a grin that he certainly didn’t feel, spread across his face. As he walked between the rows of cars, he studied the man who had wandered onto his car lot.

The man looked to be in his mid-thirties. He seemed relatively fit, but signs of sitting at a desk all day long, or possibly a few too many beers after work, were showing in his gut. His haircut was stylish and expensive and was almost successful at hiding a slightly receding hairline. The man wore a tailored business suit, but looked uncomfortable in it, as though it were a new addition to his persona.

Jack had the man sized up almost instantly. That was his gift. He was very observant and could read people easily. It helped to make him a very successful salesman, and lately it made him a rather successful…he didn’t entertain that thought any further.

The man was alone. Jack’s sharp eyes noted that not only was there no ring on his left hand, but not even the tell-tale tan line he so often saw when potential customers were walking down the row of sportier models. He had a girlfriend perhaps, but no wife. That didn’t do much to help Jack’s mood, but at least it was something.

There was a quality to Jonathan Morris’s demeanor that was not unlike a sixteen year old waiting to receive his first driver’s license. However Jonathan’s day had managed to soar far beyond the adolescent milestone of legal driving. He had achieved what he considered his pinnacle. The Big One was his. The boss had just informed him this morning that the position of Executive Advertising Director was his if he wanted it. Hell yes, he wanted it. With this position, Jonathan finally became one of the Higher-Ups.

If the corner office and executive parking space weren’t enough to put a grin on his face, the six figure salary certainly was. But that 15 year old heap he drove, the one with the cracked windshield, the one that occasionally left a dark spot on the concrete after he pulled away, it just wouldn’t do for that new parking spot.

As he looked over a newer model sports coup, Jonathan noticed the salesman walking toward him. He felt a momentary twinge of revulsion and then a half grin formed on his lips. He decided with amusement that not even a car salesman could dampen his mood today.

Jonathan suddenly found himself confronted with an out-thrust hand and a large toothy smile. “Jack Krander,” said the owner of the smile. “You are…?”

“Jonathan. Jonathan Morris.” Jonathan gripped Jack’s hand and shook it firmly. He noticed that the salesman’s hand felt slightly clammy.

“Good to meet you, Jon,” said Jack. He nodded at the car Jonathan had been eying. “I see you’ve found one of my favorites. Are you looking to get into something new?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking about it. Something sporty, maybe.”

“You came to the right place.” Jack’s voice was shaky. He put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and ushered him away from the car. “This one is nice, but I think I want to show you a few other things first. Maybe we’ll get back to this one.”

Jonathan thought he noticed Jack looking over his shoulder a few times as they walked. Something was definitely strange about this salesman, but he tried to dismiss the thought. After all, he admittedly didn’t have a lot of experience with them. Maybe they were all a little odd like this.

“So Jon, let me guess,” Jack said. “You got a new promotion?” The statement was blunt and forced. Even Jack cringed as soon as the words had escaped him. He was pretty sure Jonathan didn’t see it.

Jonathan blinked several times. “Uh, yeah.” He felt more than a little bewildered at the man he was walking with. The salesman’s words were what he expected. His demeanor was not.

“Good for you!” Jack steered them down another aisle of cars, these slightly higher end than the row of cars they just came from. “I’m sure you’ll find something to catch your interests here. We’ve got many sporty models, including some hot, new foreign jobs.” They stopped at a small, red convertible. “Here is a good car, Jon…” Jack fell into a fairly routine sales pitch. His voice seemed to steady the more he talked and almost as if he realized this, he didn’t stop talking for many long minutes. He moved the two of them from one car to another.

Jonathan stifled a yawn and shuffled his feet. They were in front of the fifth car. “These are all nice cars, but none of them do anything for me,” he finally said, interrupting Jack. In point of fact, the second car had really appealed to him, but he hadn’t been able to get a word in to say so. Now he just wanted to find a way to gracefully exit the dealership.

Picking up finally on Jonathan’s boredom, Jack leaned close in mock secrecy. “I hate to say it, but I agree with you.” Jack looked around as if to make sure no one was listening in. “It’s my job to sell you one of these wrecks.” He said as he started them walking in a new direction. “But if you’ll just give me another few minutes, I do have something interesting over this way.” His voice became slightly unsteady again and Jonathan thought he noticed a few beads of sweat on the salesman’s forehead. “I didn’t really want to show this yet because we just got it in last week.” Jonathan saw that they were approaching a garage.

“You see,” Jack explained, “this thing just came in from Europe. It’s about as new as you can get. In fact, it’s the only one in this part of the country.” He paused while he fumbled with the keypad on the garage door. “In other words, it’ll provide plenty of bragging rights to whoever buys it.” He winked at Jonathan. The gesture seemed clumsy and staged.

The door squealed as the chain of the opener raised it. “Technology-wise, we don’t have anything like it here,” he continued. “But I guess they’ve already started selling them in France and some areas of Germany. Anyway, I don’t really know all of the tech-stuff, but it drives — well, you’ll just have to see that for yourself.” The two men stepped into darkness. “Just a sec…” Jack said as he reached for the light switch.

After the fluorescent lights flickered on, Jonathan got his first glimpse of it. To him, it looked as if someone had mixed the DNA of a Lamborghini and a stealth fighter. It was as if the designers had taken the fastest, meanest and sexiest elements of every exotic car Jonathan had ever seen and molded them in to one.

The body of it was a dark, metallic gray with teal accents that stood out in such stark contrast that they appeared to glow. The entire car gleamed wickedly in the artificial light. The front end appeared to sit slightly lower than the rear, making the car look like a predator about to lunge. The front end had both curves and sharp angles that made it look like a sneering beast baring fangs. Massive air scoops on the sides were ready to greedily suck oxygen to fuel what could only be a ridiculous amount of power and speed.

To be continued…

Hunger – Part 3

Published by Robert on April 2, 2016

Here is Part 3 (and the final intallment) of Hunger.

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

Hunger

by Robert Wurth

Part 3

Hunger.

All consuming hunger.

The hunger is pain like jagged metal being twisted in my gut. It is a continuous shriek in my brain.

Darkness lifts and I can see.

I’m alive. I have no idea how, but I am.

I’m in a tunnel, deep inside my mind. The world is so far away. My face is pressing against the floor but I can’t feel it. The gun is in front of me, still where it fell when I dropped it. The black hole of the barrel stares at me impassively, waiting.

Perhaps it’s not too late.

I reach for the gun, but nothing happens. My arm doesn’t move. I try harder to will the limb to do something, twitch, anything, but it does no good. Am I paralyzed? Did something break when I fell?

The hunger!

It is like a living thing inside of me, trying to claw and rip its way out. The only thing I can feel is the hunger. I still can’t even feel the hard floor under my body.

The world begins to shake and everything moves around me. I have no idea what’s going on, but then I realize that I am the one moving. My head lifts from the floor as my arms prop them up. I don’t recall making this happen. I try again to reach for the gun, putting every effort I can imagine into it. My right arm buckles. I think I did this, but it causes me to lose my balance and my shoulder slams into the dresser.

Undeterred, my body once more pulls itself up from the floor.

Something vaguely familiar tickles the edges of my senses. By the time my body is standing, I’ve recognized the sensation. It is a smell. Tammy. Oh, my dear Tammy. The hunger flairs angrily at the smell, drowning out coherent thought. My body starts walking toward the bedroom doorway.

I fight to reclaim my thoughts and suddenly a glimmer of understanding floods into my mind.

Oh, God no! This can’t be happening! How am I still here? The me that can think and reason? How can I be trapped inside this thing that used to be my body?

I try to scream, to yell out some kind of warning, but my vocal cords won’t work. I look feebly back at the gun on the floor, but it’s too late and I’m out of the bedroom and rapidly approaching the head of the stairs. I can hear clattering in the kitchen. Tammy is still cooking dinner.

I’m half way down the stairs. The smell is stronger, intoxicating and burning in my nostrils, exciting the hunger into a frenzy. It isn’t the scent of the cooking food. That doesn’t even register in my mind. It’s the scent of flesh. It’s overwhelming, as though not just my nose, but every pore in my body is taking it in. Saliva fills my mouth, overflowing and running down my chin. So badly do I want to eat.

NO!

I won’t do this!

I have to stop!

Somehow, I have to go back up the stairs and get that pistol. I have to find the strength to use it. I focus everything that’s left of me on turning myself around and going back up the stairs.

My leg fumbles on the next step, missing it. My body stumbles and I hit the wall, almost falling. Mentally, I gasp from the effort and lose my concentration. My body recovers faster than I do and resumes its march down the steps. I need to try harder.

I’m at the bottom of the stairs. The kitchen is only just down the hall, behind a swinging door. I bear down and force the smell and the hunger out of my mind and think only of my legs.

My body stumbles and lurches. It’s working! I’m fighting for control. I’m still moving toward the kitchen, but the progress has become laborious as I fight for control of my legs. Every footstep is an epic battle of my will against unbearable instinct. My arms swing lifelessly and the world tilts as my head falls limp.

My forehead smashes into the swinging door, pushing it open and I stumble into the kitchen.

Tammy’s scent assaults me like a psychic hand grenade exploding in my consciousness. All of my efforts to fight dissolve instantly against the glorious smell of flesh. Tammy looks up and she instantly knows. She screams and reaches for her gun on the counter, but she’s too late. Snapped from my struggle, my body rushes forward. I’m on her in a flash and helpless to stop myself. I hit her and my momentum carries us onto the kitchen table. It collapses under the weight of the both of us and we slam into the ground.

Tammy struggles to get away, but my body is too strong for her, the hunger giving it willpower that doesn’t care if muscles and bone are stressed to the breaking point. I hold her to the ground. I can hear noises and shouts from the basement. The commotion must have alerted the others.

It doesn’t matter.

Only the hunger matters.

I have Tammy pinned completely and I can see the terror in the whites of her eyes. I love her so much. My head lowers toward her neck. She looks like she is screaming, but the only thing I can hear is a pulsating rushing in my ears that I imagine is the sound of the delicious blood coursing through her body.

No! No! No! No! No!

Tammy!

NO!

I want to scream, I want to stop, but I can’t.

The hunger is in total control, and something deep inside of me craves the flesh more than anything in the world. I am so close that Tammy screams directly in my ear, and this time I hear it, but it can’t drown out the call of the hunger. Then suddenly Tammy’s scream is cut off and replaced by a rasping gurgle.

The flesh is the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. Satisfaction so pure that I’ve never experienced anything like it. Complete ecstasy. My eyes roll back and close and the last thing I see is Tammy’s ruined throat.

I have become the hunger and I relish in the flesh. I crave it the way a flame craves oxygen. Warm blood and tissue slide down my throat and all I want is more.

There are noises behind me now. I hear shouts and screams, but I can no longer understand them. Eyes still closed, I bend down for more flesh. There is a metallic ka-chunk sound that seems vaguely familiar, then a shout that sounds something like “do it,” but I have no idea what that means.

I ignore the noises and sink my teeth once more into the glorious flesh.

There is a blinding flash and then the black hole finally, mercifully consumes me.

– The End –

If you enjoyed this story, please comment and let me know. Hell, if you hated it, let me know that, too.

Either way, thank for reading.

And if you really liked this random string of words I’ve assembled into a story, please consider making a donation to help keep me writing.

Hunger – Part 2

Published by Robert on April 1, 2016

Here is part 2 of my story, “Hunger.” You can read part 1 here.

Hunger

by Robert Wurth

Part 2

I sat on the edge of the bed, lightly sobbing and holding my spare pistol. I felt feverish and there was a burning sensation that had traveled up my bitten arm and into my chest.

The gun felt bigger in my hands than normal and much, much heavier. I knew what I needed to do, but that was so much easier said than done. The irony was that we were always filled with so much bravado about it all. Everyone says, “I ain’t going out like that, man. If I get infected, I’ll punch my own ticket!” But you know what? In the two years since all of this started, I’ve never seen anyone muster up the guts to do it themselves.

I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.

There was no such thing as a cure. There was no such thing as hope. Sitting on the bed, holding my only salvation in the entire world in my hand, I felt helpless.

I could already feel the burning moving down into my legs and up to my neck.

Jesus! Two years! I had made it two years!

We had been steadily moving across the country and thought we had finally worked out a good system. It had been six months since we lost anyone and we figured that in another couple of months we’d be far enough up into Alaska that we could use the cold and altitude to keep them away.

Tammy had even begun to talk about a family and I was almost on board with the idea.

Funny how much things have changed and so quickly. Before all of this, I had a wife and a baby girl. We had dated for four years before getting married, and even then weren’t sure we wanted kids until it happened. If Jen had told me she wanted a baby three months into our relationship, I’d have left skid marks out the door.

Now? Three months together felt like years, and when Tammy brought it up my only concern was to tell her we should wait until Alaska.

It was all so close. So fucking close.

The gun taunted me. It started shaking excitedly, like it was coming to life and was going to fly into the air and shoot me itself. Then I realized it was really my hand that was shaking.

My thoughts were getting fuzzy and scrambled. If I turned my head quickly, the world struggled to catch up, not unlike the buzz of a few too many drinks.

I turned the barrel of the pistol to face me. The opening was like a black hole, offering to swallow me up and take me to freedom. I watched the black hole grow bigger and bigger as my hand brought the gun closer to my head.

I wondered if it would hurt.

It couldn’t possibly hurt more than the burning inside of me.

I thought I could see Tammy’s face waiting for me deep down inside that black hole. It wasn’t fair. I loved her so much. If I was being brutally honest, I still barely knew her. I didn’t even know her middle name for fuck’s sake. But I loved her. That much I knew. I wish I had known her before, when the world was real. Before it was a nightmare.

My finger slid onto the trigger like it had done a thousand times before. But this wasn’t like before. My senses felt strangely heightened. I imagined I could feel every peak and valley of the trigger’s textured steel. My thumb pulled the hammer back and the trigger moved slightly in response. All it required now was the slightest feather touch. Just a gentle squeeze, not even enough pressure to whiten my fingernail, and that black hole would explode and suck me inside forever.

The gun started to shake again. It wasn’t just my hand this time, but my whole body was trembling. The pain was getting worse. It seemed like I was suddenly in a tunnel and I squeezed my eyes shut several times to try to clear my vision. It didn’t help. There was a terrible ringing in my ears, getting louder every second.

I felt the gun slip from my hands. It seemed like the world was in slow motion and I watched my last hope for salvation tumble in the air as it fell further and further from me. “No!” I cried, but my voice sounded distant and drowned out by the ringing. I’m not even certain if I actually said it or just thought it.

The gun hit the hard wood floor and I had a fleeting hope that it would discharge anyway and manage to complete its mission. It merely skittered across the room and came to rest by the dresser.

I tried to reach for it, but my arm wouldn’t work the way I wanted it to. I felt like screaming, but I couldn’t breathe. I leaned forward. My balance faltered and I started to fall off the bed. With my arms no longer working, I couldn’t break the fall. I did manage to turn my head at the last instant and my left cheek cracked hard onto the floor. I knew it should have hurt like hell, but agony of the burning inside of me overruled any outside pain.

I opened my eyes and saw the black hole staring back at me. The gun was mere inches from my face, but it might as well have been a thousand miles. I couldn’t reach it. Maybe I no longer needed to. My vision was darkening. I didn’t need to go to the black hole. It was coming for me.

Everything went black.

To be continued…

Hunger – Part 1

Published by Robert on March 31, 2016

One thing I would like to do with this blog is occasionally test the waters with some writing. Maybe I will eventually put some of this stuff out there for sale. Maybe not.

First up is part 1 of a story that I wrote back in 2008. It’s been sitting on my hard drive gathering dust until I stumbled upon it a few days ago.

I blew off the dust and spit polished here and there. Mostly, however, I’m posting this as I found it, for better or worse.

I hope you enjoy it. Your feedback is encouraged. I’ll post part 2 in a day or so…

Hunger

by Robert Wurth

Part 1

It was a small mistake, really. Just a simple mental error and it would cost me everything I ever was or ever would be.

They were right on me as I neared the house. They had been getting faster and we weren’t sure why, but it scared the hell out of us. My hand bumped the door on my way through and it caused my pistol to slip from my grasp. I should have just fucking left it! You can always get more guns. Always.

But that’s not what your brain thinks of in the heat of the moment.

It thinks, “oh shit!” and before you realize what you’re doing, your arm is thrust back out the opening, groping for that precious Glock.

I felt the white hot pain of the bite almost before I even realized the thing had grabbed me. I wanted to scream because it felt like the worst pain in the Universe. I wanted to scream at my own stupidity. I wanted to scream because I knew that I had just made the worst mistake I would ever make.

But I didn’t scream, because I knew that if I did, the next thing that would happen would be a shotgun to my head. That would be for the best, but self-preservation had other ideas and I clenched my jaws as tight as I could and managed to keep myself to a grunt.

My arm jerked as the thing shook its head, trying to tear off a piece of my flesh. Panicked, I pulled as hard as I could and was revolted by the awful, wet ripping sound of a piece of me coming loose.

I pulled my arm free and snatched it back through the door opening. I twisted my torso, putting my opposite shoulder into the door and slammed it shut.

I never even saw the thing that bit me.

In one fluid move, I pulled a large compression bandage from my first aid pouch, used my teeth to tear open the sterile package, and slapped the bandage over the wound. I didn’t even want to look at it. Not yet. If only I had been wearing my leather jacket. If only I had run a little faster. If only I hadn’t dropped my goddamn gun.

If only.

I rolled down my shirt sleeve to cover the bandage and a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding since slamming the door escaped in a shuddering sigh. Thoughts about what had just happened, and more importantly, what it meant evaporated from my mind and a strange calm washed over me. It was probably a shock and panic overload. I gathered myself, made sure the door was locked and barred, then headed for the kitchen.

Tammy was busy tallying the inventory and preparing dinner when I came in. She stopped and smiled warmly at me. “Hi, hon! How’d it go?”

“Good,” I said in monotone as I dropped my pack’s contents onto the counter. Five cans of beans, half a dozen cans of various veggies, some cans of soup, a few different spices, and three packages of beef jerky.

The world had come to the point where it was easier to find .45 ammo than an unspoiled can of beans. So any score of food was a victory. But today the haul wasn’t worth it.

Tammy’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Just tired. Had to sprint the entire way back.”

The way she stared at me suggested that she didn’t quite believe me. I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t even convincing to myself. She looked over the stuff I had dumped on the counter. “That was all I could scrounge,” I offered, sensing her disappointment. “The store is finally almost picked clean.”

Tammy sighed. “We’ll have to move soon. Maybe within a week. It’s a little quicker than I had hoped.”

I nodded. “I’m going to go lay down.”

She came over to me and slid her arms around my waist. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Even wearing nothing on her face other than a few smudges of dirt, she was stunning.

We met three months ago. Our group had found her hiding in a convenience store and almost shot her before we realized she wasn’t infected. Tammy and I gravitated to one another almost immediately, hitting it off with shared interests in things that would probably never again exist.

There were days that I almost didn’t think about my previous life, the family I had lost. Tammy made me feel less guilty about those days.

My arm was throbbing, reminding me insistently of the open wound beneath the bandage and of the inevitable fate now rushing through my bloodstream. I hoped that all of my swirling emotions were not displayed like a billboard on my face. It was all I could do to hold back a total break down.

“You go rest up,” Tammy said, and gave me a quick kiss. I wanted to shy away from it, but couldn’t bring myself to. “Everyone is downstairs cleaning weapons. I’ll call you for dinner.”

“I lost my .45.” I said.

“Where?”

“Just outside.”

Tammy shrugged. “We’ll get it tomorrow.” She was exactly right, and that was the stupidest thing of it all. I didn’t even need to go back for the gun. It wasn’t going anywhere. They never touched the guns.

I turned to leave. “Hey,” Tammy called. “Rest well. We’re not on guard tonight and I’ve saved shower rations. We can take a long one. Together.”

My back was to her, but I could hear the wink come through in her voice. I was glad she couldn’t see my face as I left the kitchen, because I was unable to keep the tears from escaping my eyes.

To be continued…