Warnings: Descriptions of mutilated bodies. Death and blood.
"Help… me…" The words are hoarse and dry as they fall from the man's mouth like loose teeth. He stretches him arms, reaches towards me with his mutilated hands asking me for my help, but the infernal pain he no doubt is in makes him give up. He goes limp on a body beneath him as another one weighs him down from the top. There are two more on his sides, and many, many, many others in the pile of corpses that he is stuck in. I hear his sobs as he's whispering his agony to those around him, those who have already passed away.
"Help… me…" he begs again. I take a step and another forward even though I'm horrified of him. My objective side is telling me that I'm in no position to be scared, but still my breaths keep circling in my throat, never reaching my lungs, and my blood gushes in my veins with such force that I hear a heavy humming in my entire head. My heart pounds beneath my ribs so hard it almost hurts. I approach the man who's only got shreds of flesh left on his bony figure. I can see the white of his skull in the middle of a few lumps of hair he's still got left, half of his nose is gone and the meat hanging on the rest of his body looks like it's going to fall off any minute. And still…
"Help me."
They are the same words, but now they are not coming from him. The voice is more feminine though it carries the same tone of excruciating pain. Suddenly I feel something wet wrapping around my ankle. An awkward sound of surprise and perhaps misplaced disgust escapes from me before I look down to see a woman's bloody hand holding onto me like she could save her life just by clinging to me.
"Help me", she repeats, and I can only wonder how she is even able to talk as it looks like she is about to drop her jaw – literally. I jerk my foot free from her grip and turn away. But there is no escape; everywhere I look I see the same mindless horror. Death. Blood. Teeth. Bones. Limbs. Body parts. Intestines. People. My body shivers and I get an unpleasant, acidy taste in my mouth – and I feel hideous to the very core of my essence for even having such a thought – as I realise I wish they were dead. But they're not. The mountain of what should be lifeless corpses starts to move restlessly. I see eyes opening, limbs stretching, I hear moans, whimpers and cries, I hear men, women, even children, and I smell thick blood and rotting flesh.
"Help me. Help me!"
The words are everywhere. They attack me from every direction, and I feel cornered. It's my duty to help them, I know, but my entire body is like frozen to its place. I can only stare at the broken, destroyed human bodies that have their eyes fixed on me as they are trying their best to get to me. Their voices grow louder, and I have to cover my ears. I fall on my knees, my eyes watering. As the crowd demands my help, I beg them to stop as I rock myself back and forth like a true lunatic, wishing for a lightning to struck me to end my tormenting existence.
"Janie. Help me." I can hear the familiar, soft voice over the unkind cacophony of the masses. It doesn't, however, comfort me at all; not one bit. I raise my gaze and meet the kind eyes of my older brother. He looks almost brand new compared to the others, but I can see a large, dark stain on his blue jacket growing every passing second. "Sister, help me!" he begs again, takes a step towards me but falls down on his knees. "Janie, help me!" I want to help him, I really do, but I find myself unable to function. I can only look as his body starts to darken and dry, his skin cracking and oozing maggots. I stare at my beloved brother as he reaches for me and his hand crumbles away. I keep staring even when the tiniest wind blows the rest of him away as nothing more than dark-grey dust.
The last thing I register is a voice telling me it's my fault.