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.
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…