Man
I lifted what was left of her leg. The bullet wound had left the limb shattered, it curled into a gentle, putrid arch from where it had partially healed. It was rank with yellow, fetid discharge.
My hands shook, how could they not shake, as I wrapped alcohol-soaked rags around the rotting flesh?
She was kind, kind even now. Even as I grew hesitant, she reached out with a cold, clammy palm.
The leaden weight within my chest began to dissipate as her fingers clasped around my own.
I knew her grip well, I knew it was far too weak. I looked over her aged form till my eyes reached her own. I felt sick. She didn't deserve this. She was a good person.
I didn't deserve this.
She was covered up, but it couldn't stop the stench. She was wasting away, day after day. I tilted her head back and poured a half-empty bottle of whiskey down her throat. I only wished it would drown out whatever agony the twin evils of disease and hunger forced her to endure.
She spoke between wheezing, ghastly breaths. "Cassiel…"
I couldn't meet her gaze any longer. But, it didn't matter. She squeezed my hand with whatever strength she had left. I felt comforted, rewarded, I was doing what I could to ease her suffering.
…I was a good person…
I hated her
She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to have me drag her away when a bullet smashed into her shin. The bandits would have finished her off.
Now, I have to take care of her, I have to be a good person. I haven't a choice left in this world. Not if I want to be forgiven.
Bile rose as I looked into those defenseless eyes. I couldn't shake the anguished grip of sensation that flooded the inside of my chest. That feeling had never left me. The witch shackled me with it. Whenever she gave me a warm smile, or embraced me. Whenever she placed a comforting hand on my cheek. Then, the chilling, searing claw over my heart was torn away. She made sure of it, best she could. I hated her, I hated all of them.
I finished my ministrations. I turned away and sunk down onto the frayed remains of a couch. I could feel her looking over me, I didn't know what those pallid, sunken eyes held.
Maybe she begged for death, maybe she wished to deepen her hex. I got up and stood beside her. Her eyes relaxed as I placed my palm on her shoulder. I was a fool, she cares, she wants me here. She is no witch. But… she can't be good either.
"Cassiel," she repeated with great effort.
I locked fingers with her using my other hand. "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere."
She shifted somewhat. I picked up the scorching flickers of anger in her sputtering voice. "We… should die."
All of the warmth she had used to shield me was sucked away by those three words. I felt my knees begin to weaken, they shook beneath me.
She was right.
"No, we can't die… It would be in vain." Why did I say that? Why couldn't I stay silent?
A particularly violent tremor struck me as I caught sight of the rueful shade within her smile. "Boy, I'll be dead soon anyway." Maybe her words held some sorrow. But, my mind could only think of the… relief it dug out from beneath them.
Maybe that would be fitting for us. Maybe, maybe… I should cut her throat open, then cut open my own.
We deserved it, did we not?
Then, she cackled, like the witch she was. I couldn't help but laugh along, meekly, pathetically. But, there was nothing funny. My chest didn't feel light. This was sick, we were sick. None of this should have been. Yet, I was here.
"You know what to do… when I die." The serious edge to her words made me silent the instant it cut into me.
I didn't respond, not right away. I looked into those half-blind globes. I knew what to do. My sister, she didn't know. She paid the price. That stubborn bitch refused every plate I gave her. She refused till her limbs became gaunt and her belly swelled with gas. She refused till the life flickered out of her body.
There was little to collect from that corpse.
"Auntie… I won't let that happen." I knew I couldn't stop it. I was a deceiver, foul and wicked as the witch I cared for. "Dad told me to keep everyone safe… I will help."
The diseased woman didn't hesitate. The sickness that crawled into her body and sloughed the flesh away from her bones hadn't cut away the perceptive power she always possessed.
She was hardly mobile, yet her finger lifted. "Liar…"
....
The city the nearest railway had brought us to was completely worthless. The power had long since cut, the buildings had been sacked by wandering travelers and greedy pilgrims. Auntie may have been bound to a wheelchair and barely conscious when we arrived, yet she was clever enough to point out the relative security of the mall.
Most of what was useful had been taken, but the labyrinthian expanse of the building made for a good hiding space.
After she had slumbered off, I made my move.
I stared back at the ramshackle shelter I managed to cobble together. The parts I found in a nearby Ikea were instrumental in my endeavor. I remember hastily boarding up the walls of the clothing store we now called home and dragging in the nicest bed I could find. It's the least I could do for her.
The presence of sinners here had assured her of this place's safety. They made me uneasy, but they mostly kept to themselves.
Those grotesque… things, already raided the pharmacy here. There weren't any painkillers or narcotics I could use, selfish fucks.
I peered over the railings and locked eyes with the outside of the pharmacy. I remember crossing it a couple of times. The sinners used to eye me down warily. By themselves they are quite feeble. You still don't want a small horde of them trying to grind you into fertilizer.
I never dared try to enter and look for antibiotics. But, this time was different. My life is not one that deserves to continue. That thought had settled in as I saw my aunt grow weaker. She understood that we have done something grave, that we should not be alive.
So, I have no fear of them. If I die, then I die. If I slay them and get the medicine I need then maybe, maybe I'll have fixed this.
No matter what the cost, I need to get those antibiotics… "Where are you going, lad? Such iron is rarely found in the eyes of youth." I turned to face the source of the grotesque voice.
A sinner sat against the wall beside me. His head was too narrow to support his features. His eyes were pushed to the sides of his face like those of a horse. The sight of his hands made me turn away, they were smooth and swollen. They looked like clubs of meat, devoid of digits and humanity.
I ignored his question. I turned towards the escalator, it was obviously non-functional but that wouldn't stop me from using it like a set of stairs. The pharmacy waited down below.
"You are blessed with ignorance, lad. The air shimmers with death beneath our feet." The ominous phrasing halted my advance.
I could feel my teeth begin to grind painfully. I had no time to waste on this filth. "The fuck do you want, huh?"
The sinner chuckled, it was a low, sordid sound that made me want to gag. "It means I wouldn't go down there if I were you, boy."
"Explain yourself," I made sure to tilt my hips slightly and make it clear I was armed. He didn't respond to the sheathed length of my blade.
"I do not know why I know or what it is that lurks beneath." His legs crossed subtly, he leaned off the wall, he was ready to run if he had to. "I simply feel it in my gut and not once has my gut lied to me."
"Fuck you," I looked away from him, he made me uneasy, maybe. But I headed down. I accepted death. I wouldn't stop unless I was dead. After all, this is what we deserve.
A creeping realization spread across me with each footfall. My eyes washed over the boarded-up exterior of the pharmacy… No, something was wrong.
The wooden boards over one of the windows were splintered and broken. The glass behind them had shattered. There were no sinners here, no blood either. Had they moved? God damn it, I don't have either the time nor the right to ask questions.
I reached towards the front entrance. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my saber, though I didn't guide them. I wrapped my sweaty palm over the door handle. Then I…
I threw myself back. My hands scrambled against the marble flooring. I pressed my back against the unyielding stone that made up the ground. The sinner upstairs was right, there was something dreadful behind that door.
I crawled past the corner until the front side of the pharmacy was out of view. I clasped a hand over my racing heart as if willing it to slow down. I had seen something through the wooden boarding, the shadows had obscured everything else. The red glint of a cyclopean eye, it had reflected sanguine light over a set of perfect, triangular teeth. Some sort of malignant… machine had made its way into the store in search of a meal.
Did it eat them all? No, there was no blood. Maybe he warned them? Or maybe… no, don't even think about it. Just act.
I could hear the faint grinding of gears now. It breathed in long hisses, occasionally. The damnable thing almost sounded alive. If it lived then it could die… So, so why are my hands shaking? Why are my legs so weak?
I have to enter. It doesn't matter if that thing kills me, I said it myself, I have to do this even if it kills me. Dying like this wouldn't be meaningless. If I could die whilst trying to save someone then maybe I can be redeemed.
I have to do this. So why can't I move?
That's right… I am a coward.
........
I am filth
My teeth ground down the last bite. I should have thrown it up. But… I couldn't, even as bile rose up in my throat. Nothing would go to waste, not even that putrid leg.
I had already butchered everything else. Already, I had eaten everything else.
She was dead.
It was my fault, mine alone… After she died, I went back to the pharmacy, after that thing left. The medicine I needed was there, but it was worthless to me… No, it's not worthless, it has value.
If someone years from now needs antibiotics then it will have served its purpose. All I do is take, since I was born I have done nothing but take. I am what's worthless.
I spat some half-cooked flesh, I fought against nausea. I reached down to scrape it off the floor and shovel it back into my mouth. I deserved the disgusting flavor and the sickening texture.
Dad told me to keep the others safe. It wasn't my fault that a bandit shot him… Everything else was my fault. It was my fault when my brother hung himself, it was my fault when my sister starved herself, it was my fault that my aunt died curled under blankets, never again to see the sun. She died choking on pus as her lungs rotted.
I pressed the cold edge of my saber against my throat.
Do it coward.
Kill yourself just like you killed mom with your misbegotten birth. Become the fucking soil others piss on so you can have some worth. The vultures will have use for you.
My jaw clenched hard enough to shake my whole body. I hardly drew breath, it took all my strength to stop myself from hurling the blade.
Blood began to drip across the floor. One tug and it would all end, one tug and then I will be free.
I will be a good person.
I don't want to die… Bullshit, I have to die, I have to die.
End it now. Not wanting is not good enough.
Die No, I need to escape this.
Die I need a reason.
I can still do some good
It's too easy like this. Killing myself won't fix what I did. I need to give as much as I have taken. I have incurred a debt. I will have to pay it back if I wish to die,
or go on living. I will flagellate myself in service to others and there will be no doubt that I am a good man.
My saber was back in its scabbard.