Death creeps, did you know that? It's not as sudden as anyone may think. You feel it coming upon you for hours, or if you're in my shoes, it's been fourteen days, going on day fifteen. I've felt it ever since the van flipped, and it's gotten stronger every minute. Now it's as if an axe is diving into my head, pinning a headache to me like a tail on a donkey.
The rusty crowbar I'm holding leaves bits of old metal, and a dirty-orange color on my hands. For some reason, I feel like I should wash them, even though that's completely out of the question, and the last thing I should be thinking about doing right now. I want that chocolate. I need the damn chocolate. Hell, even if it's not chocolate, I need something to eat. I'm going to fucking die if Mr. Tiger doesn't get his damn meal!
I realize I'm yelling inside my own head just as soon as I realize I'm actually yelling. It frightens me, because I didn't even mean to think in an angry tone, let alone end up screaming at myself. It makes me feel crazy, even though I'm not entirely sure what 'crazy' is. I have a cousin, and most of my family call him Jake, but my brother calls him 'Crazy'. He says that, without the help of a special teacher, Jake couldn't even "wipe his own ass". If that's what 'crazy' is, then I pray that I'm not crazy.
My eyes gaze around at the building that I've found myself in; the one that's near the bridge that brings up a lot of memories. I can't tell what it is now, but I can tell that it once was a shoe store. I can't recall if I've ever purchased a pair from this particular store, but I remember coming here once. It must have been years ago, back when I was a little kid, because I hardly remember a thing.
The shoes are scattered all over the place, and I can't help but look around for a pair that I might like, as I try to make my way towards the source of the smell. I don't see anything that strikes my interest, considering that everything is either grimy or covered in blood (or at least I think it's blood). The first time I'd seen blood was during my first year of junior high.
I had just joined the volleyball team and we were practicing serves, or spikes, or something like that, and when it came time for me to try whatever it was we were doing, the ball smacked me right in the face. I tried to play it off like it didn't hurt even though it stung, making my eyes water. Then I felt the rush of blood down the front of my face, I even tasted it as it fell into my mouth. The other girls laughed, pointing at my face and saying some things I couldn't understand over my sobs. Yeah, that's right, I started crying. Who wouldn't have?
I remember running to the girls' bathroom on the other end of the school, dripping blood the entire way, sobbing in gibberish and wishing I was anywhere but there. Not only was that the first time I'd seen blood, but it was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Well, maybe not the most embarrassing, but pretty darn close.
My knees grow weak and I drop to the floor, feeling dizzy, like I'm going to 'throw up' again. I don't really know why, but I can't, for the life of me, get back up. My legs are wobbly and unstable, leaving me like a little turtle, except I don't have a giant shield on my back, protecting me from the rest of the world. I wish I was a turtle, then I'd be safe. I'd be used to the situation I'm in right now. I most likely wouldn't be afraid.
"Get a grip, Pepsi." I say to myself. "Just get a damn grip." I suppose I do it to try to motivate myself, and it works to some degree. I'm finally able to stand on my own two, rickety legs. Not wanting to wait for the chocolate, I immediately try to take a step forward, and luckily for me, my knees stay firm. So I take another, and another, and another,
"Just put one foot in front of the other…" I sing to myself as I begin to walk again, heading towards the opposite side of the old shoe store. That's where the smell is coming from, or at least that's what my nose is telling me. I make sure to step over the shoes, because for some reason I think it would be rude to get my grimy shoes all over them; even though they are already dirty and whethered, most likely from people walking all over them.
It's hard to imagine other people being in this building for some reason. It feels like it's mine, like I claimed it under the name of Pepsi, supreme ruler of herself and nothing else. It's like this one quote from a movie I like a lot, "Sixteen months and you can get used to anything". Except, in my case, it hadn't even been one month yet. Only fifteen days and I was practically used to the idea of being alone, even if it did scare the hell out of me. I don't think I should feel proud about that.
I hear something; something get knocked over. It's most likely an empty box of shoes, but I still hear it, and it still gets me into my 'batters stance' that my brother had taught me; the crowbar raised over my head, and my feet spread apart as if I was standing in a batter's box. I look around, trying to find the source of the noise, but my eyes don't pick anything up.
Then I stop. What am I doing? Why do I have this crowbar? What if whoever made that noise is here to help me? What if I'm not alone?
"Hey!" I yell towards the end of the building, hearing it echo. "Hey! Is there anyone there? I need help…" My tummy growls, and I place my hand over it to calm it down. "I need food!"
The only response I get is another sound; this one is more like a piece of metal dropping to the tiled floor. It makes me shudder, but I tell myself I'm stupid. I'm saved, is what I keep yelling at myself as the thing that makes the sound, does what it does best; make another sound.
"Hey!" I scream again. "I'm over here! I need your damn help! Get your butt over here and save me!" I hear a growl, almost like a dog's, and then I hear footsteps, but they aren't walking, they are sprinting. They are coming right for me too.
The thing that has been making all of the sound (the thing I thought was here to save me) comes out from around a rack of shoes. It's nasty, is what I think to myself as it comes towards me. There is a dark crimson substance (dried blood maybe?) covering a majority of its body, and wherever isn't covered by that is just a lump of this pink, pulsating mass. I don't know what it is, but it makes me want to 'vomit' again.
"Are you here to save me?" I know it's not, mainly because of the apparent lack of a bottom jaw, but also because it moans, but not just any moan, it's like a moan only a dead person can make. It reminds me of the moan I heard my grandma make before she passed several years ago, when I was the only one in the room, sitting next to her bed hoping that it wouldn't be me.
I panic as it runs towards me, and I know I don't have any time to panic, because it is running, and the store is fairly small. Remembering the crowbar in my hand, and the little, crappy training session my brother gave me, I get back into my "batter's stance". I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm hoping that whatever I hit soars over the centerfield fence and all the fans jump up screaming "Home run! Pepsi got a home run!"
It's coming close, and for some reason I feel irritated because it's not already here, looming it's nasty face over my head. I want to hit it now, I want it to be dead and gone, because I can tell it's not human, even if it used to be. My sister had always said that (while we played Halo) that if she ever became a "flood", which is some weird creature in that game, then she'd want me to kill her. She said she wouldn't be my sister anymore, and that's how I'm sure this thing felt at one point.
Maybe a few days ago it had been a father, or a brother, and it probably told their kids or siblings that "if I become one of those things, I want you to kill me". And since apparently they weren't able to do that, I have to do it instead. Even if I didn't, I'd still have to kill it, because it's going to kill me if I don't.
It comes closer and I bring the crowbar back as far as I can, remembering what my brother taught me. Right as it reaches out to grab me, most likely to tear off my jaw so it'll have a counterpart, I swing, and boy do I swing hard. The crowbar comes around and connects with the thing's head, knocking it clear off, straight towards centerfield fence. I'm sure it cleared it.