I can cry beg and whine, t'every rebel I find
Just to give me a line I could use to describe.
They'd say 'Baby, eat this chicken slow. It's full of all them little bones.'
June 22 1998 Arklay Forest
Its existence was painless. The agonies of its earlier form had disappeared. Its damaged chest no longer fired icy daggers into its lungs. Its fever had vanished, as had the steady throb of its broken and mangled face.
Its existence was simple. Its past worries; of prison, a place called Seattle, gone. It no longer needed sleep, it no longer needed shelter. Those who had pursued it into the woods now stood ten feet behind it. It did not know; or if it did, it did not care, that they had once been enemies. It had no enemies now. It had only three classifications for the vast world in which it occupied. There were those like it, there were objects in its path, and there was food.
-Food.-
Its one purpose, all consuming, to feed. It yearned single-mindedly for food with an addiction that paled the vices of its previous life. There was not a word in any language spoken for the craving that it was subjected to. It would destroy its body; it would obliterate everything that impeded it. It would devour all it came in contact with, or ruin itself in the process.
-It will feed.-
For the longing to eat was also its burden. It was capable of feeding, yet it did not taste. It did not enjoy eating; it would never be satisfied. To go without food was torture, to eat did not sate the misery of its desire. Its existence, however simple it may be, was one of perpetual anguish. Even as it gorged itself, it starved.
-It MUST feed.-
It, (It could no longer be referred to as he; the vestigial organ between its legs was now obsolete and useless.) would feed. It would feed until its belly was full. It would continue to feed until its stomach ruptured and the food packed into its abdominal cavity. Given enough to eat, the flesh of its midsection would stretch and tear like tired fabric and the food would spill and pool at its feet. Still it would feed.
-Soon-
There was food here, good food. Food that was alive, fresh, intoxicating. There had been two, but the larger one was gone now, the others had the large one. That was fine; it did not want the large one. The large one was not fresh; the smaller one was fresh. It had tried to seize the food, but the food had struggled and had torn long swaths of flesh from its face with its fingers. It did not feel the wounds, the wounds did not matter. The food was escaping, the food mattered.
-Food-
It needed to reclaim its meal. The smaller food's essence was leaking from it, providing an arousing coppery scent for it to tail.
-Close.-
It trashed through some objects that barred it from the food. Through the barricade and the food came into view, slower now, its essence was streaming out from the tender spot between its head and body. It would need to hurry; the food would not be fresh for very long.
Its stricken prey turned its head back and cried weakly.
A tiny spark lit in the dark night of its defunct mind.
-Yellow hair…She looks like… that girl…from Trois Rivieres.-
It faltered momentarily; Was the food a girl? Was that what food was called? What was a Trois Rivieres?
The few remaining neurons of its outmoded cerebellum, writhing in their death throes, dredged up another memory. The image of a blonde girl's dark eyes widening as she stared into the muzzle of a gun.
It stopped, head cocked.
-FOOD!-
It shook the memory away, those things meant nothing to it. The food was escaping; the food meant everything! It continued its pursuit. The food was slewing through a great mass of liquid that slowed it further. It cried out again, its call was stimulating, enthralling, a starving creature's siren song.
-CLOSE!-
It charged ahead. Unlike its compatriots, it found that it could still move quickly. An advantage that it did not have the sense to be thankful for.
The food was close, so close. Its essence pooling around it, hot, tantalizing, life itself.
-Eat… eat… eat… eat… EAT… EAT… EATEATEATEATEATEAT-
Front Page, Raccoon Herald, June 24 1998
Search Continues for Missing Youths
Ben Bertolucci
Aided by numerous tips called in by Raccoon City residents. Search crews headed by Raccoon Police Department K9 units will investigate the Northwest shoreline of Victory Lake in an effort to locate the whereabouts of Jody Albrecht(17) and Erin Hawthorne(17), both of Raccoon City, declared missing...
Author's Note: Oh dear God this chapter was a pain to write! Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter, a bit of a cheap trick on my part. Once again, thank you to all the reviewers (insert high five here) you guys make my day. I am desperately trying to keep this fic rated T, if I'm crossing the line let me know and I'll adjust accordingly.
Stay Tuned
-C