First draft Lives of the dead (1)

Max never took his eyes off the man his lips curled

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Max never took his eyes off the man, his lips curled into a vicious snarl, his teeth barred and ready to snap, and his whole body tensed ready to strike. I turned to look at the man again and saw that in the short time I had been attempting to calm Max he had come much closer. The closer look at him allowed me to see a few details that escaped my notice at first. He suit, which at one point had probably been a uniform marking him as one of the business elites was torn and dirty. His shoes which had probably cost him so much were dirty, scuffed, and covered in something that looked like blood. Finally, his bluetooth had come loose, and was barely hanging from his ear, so that I could almost hear what was being said on the other end. He was now only a few feet away and Max was being to really go wild. He crouched low, barked and growled and snapped, in a display of animalistic fear and power. “Max, stop it it!”I turned back to the man. “I'm sorry he really isn't usually like this.” At this distance I could see every inch of the man in perfect detail. He looked like he had been hit by a car. Large portions of his suit were ripped away and the skin underneath rubbed raw or completely missing, revealing the grisly red of blood and muscle. He walked with a limp because he left foot was nearly broken off at the ankle, the bone exposed and jutting out. Over Max's ruckus I could hear the voice coming from the headset. It was a woman, her voice shrill with fear. “Bill, Jesus Christ answer me. Are you alright? Can you hear me? Bill, God, just answer me, I'm so scared someone's at the door, I can hear them banging. Bill, I need
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you where are you?” The scene took me a moment to digest. “Ar-are you alright man?” I asked, with an increasing sense of dread growing in my chest. He looked at me, but there was nothing in those eyes. Two white marbles placed in a mannequins head, no emotions, a cruel and careless imitation of life. I was about to ask if he wanted me to call an ambulance, when he looked down at Max. The man opened his mouth and uttered a sound like air escaping a dying mans lips, and swiped at Max with his hand. He struck my poor dog on the side of the head and knocked him back with a pathetic squeal. There are a few things in this world that can make me fly into a rage. Hitting my dog is pretty much all of them. I punched the man in the face before I even had a chance to think. “What the hell in your problem?” I yelled at his prone form. I rush over to Max who seems to had recovered and is barking at the man with renewed vigor. The man does not seem to be getting up, and I notice that when I hit him his bluetooth had fallen completely off. The woman was still talking on the other end so I shushed Max in vain and put the device to my ear.
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  • Spring '11
  • Benavides
  • Max, 2007 singles, If You Have to Ask, Swiss Army knife

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