First draft Lives of the dead (1)

She was more hysterical then she had been a few

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She was more hysterical then she had been a few seconds ago, and I could also hear the sound of a small child and the wailing of an infant. “BILL, they got inside, oh God, they broke down the front door.” Next is the voice of a little girl, “Mommy I'm scared, I want them to go away.” “I know baby, shhh just hide in the shower and don't make a noise. Daddy will be home soon and he'll make everything OK. Bill, the police aren't answering, we're locked in the bathroom, they're outside I can hear them, Bill, you have to come home now please God.” The woman goes silent for a minute, and the only sound I can hear is the cry of the infant. Suddenly there is a loud bang, and the sound of wood splintering. There is one final cry of terror from the woman, and the line goes dead. My head spins, my stomach turns, I try to piece together a coherent thought, I fail miserably. I can only think of my wife, I can only think of her alone, of how I left her alone now and alone on that day. At least there were no cries then, no wailing, just silence; silence and something like death. My altercation with the man has not gone unnoticed. Families that had been quietly playing stand still and stare at me. Some of the braver souls approach.”What the hell happened?” A burly looking man asks as he examines the man. I can say nothing, I have been struck temporarily mute by what has just happened. “Jesus, you sick bastard, what did you do to this guy?” he asks turning on my menacingly. I try to explain that I found him this way, besides the unconscious part at least, but before I can say a word a fist slams into my face and I crash to the earth. The last things I am aware of before the world goes dark are the burly man leaning down to see if the business man is still breathing, and the burly mans scream when the businessman's teeth sink into his neck. I awake, and I know I must be hallucinating, seeing a vision of my past. As I lay of the ground I see a doctor approaching me. He is covered in dried blood, fresh from surgery no doubt. “I'm sorry, there's nothing that could have been done” he says. My mouth is still not working so I think my part of the conversation. “Can I see her?” I ask. “ You're wife is in there but we have already...uh...disposed of...” My eyes go wide, I break down, “I never to should have been here” The doctor looks at me with pity in his eyes. “It would not have changed anything, it was simply not meant to be.” As my world begins to settle back into reality I realize my hallucination was not completely fabricated. A doctor was walking by the same path that I had been laid low upon, blood did stain the front of his shirt though it was most likely his own as his intestines dangled near his knees. I lay still on the road, closing my eyes shut playing possum, hoping he'll pass me by like you would drive by roadkill. My hopes are rewarded and the doctor continues shambling on for several minutes before I felt it was safe enough for me to stand up.
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  • Spring '11
  • Benavides
  • Max, 2007 singles, If You Have to Ask, Swiss Army knife

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