a story of mine

SYNOPSIS:

Better to be dead than eaten alive

By

Gregory Barone

It was sometime in late January and Neville hadn't eaten in 3 days.

It had been about a year and a half since The Event, and it was getting harder and harder to find suitable sustenance. When all the trouble first started, everybody panicked and rushed to the stores hoping if they had enough supplies, they could stay bunkered in long enough to outlast the danger. Getting food was difficult then, sure, but you could still find it if you were resourceful enough.

Neville had learned to be resourceful in his many years of existence, but nothing could have prepared him for a zombie apocalypse.

At first the president refused to acknowledge anything, claiming the reports of the recently deceased raising from the dead and attacking people were nothing but a political ploy from his enemies. Loyalists, eager to align themselves with the administration for political points, called into major news stations swearing up and down that there was no threat. That reanimated corpses were not roaming the land, feasting on human flesh, and converting their victims into a legion of the walking dead. And if they were, it was under control. And if they weren't, it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. People were dying, sure, but what about all the people who weren't dying?

Governors went on TV daily to reassure their frightened citizens. "There's nothing to worry about," they'd say while wearing full body armor and standing behind a wall of combat-ready state troopers, before fleeing to their maximum-security mansions. Eventually the press briefs slowed to a stop once the governors were unwilling to emerge for fear of political repercussions, or having their brains eaten. The major news networks spent most of their airtime arguing with politicians and talking heads about how severe the threat was, or whether it was all a hoax, or, most importantly, who was to blame. None of these people- the news anchors or pundits or state and federal officials- ever used the word "zombies" however, presumably because that was a goofy thing to say. As if maintaining the facade of normalcy was what really mattered, and not, in fact, stopping the multitudes of ravenous undead monsters from destroying all of mankind.

Neville had never seen anything like it before- not incompetent governments, he'd seen plenty of those- but as far as he knew zombies were silly movie monsters, not a credible threat that could topple governments and eliminate all life on earth.

'In hindsight', thought Neville, 'I'm not really sure why I was so surprised to find out people came back from the dead. I mean, I did.'

But Neville wasn't like them. Those creatures, those sad, shambling bastards with the torn flesh and rotting guts, were a disgusting parody of humanity. Whereas Neville, just like others of his kind, was handsome, strong, and, crucially, able to exercise a modicum of self-control and not just eat everyone in sight. Though, he had to admit, with his mounting hunger and growing frustration with humanity, he was starting to think the zombies had a good point.

As time passed it grew harder and harder to find victims as the zombie hordes slowly ate their way through society like locusts. There he was, a powerful being of immense intelligence competing for food with mindless rotting meat bags that didn't even have a functional digestive system. Technically Neville was immortal, but he knew the dwindling human population meant that he would continue to struggle to feed his need for blood until- what? Do vampires starve to death? He didn't know, he'd never heard of such a thing. Stake through the heart? Fatal. Decapitation? Game over. Sunlight? Poof, gone. But hunger?

'The only good thing about a zombie apocalypse,' Neville thought, 'Is that you're usually so preoccupied with just surviving you don't really have the time to ruminate on the inevitability of your eventual demise.'

Thick storm clouds shrouded the city, blocking out the ambient glow of the stars. The city was seemingly abandoned, the windows smashed, debris scattered, no lights all - not even the streetlights worked anymore. Neville stalked through the emptiness. He listened for any sounds of life, or sounds of death for that matter. He had only just arrived in this city a day ago after a long night of travel and had not had a chance to explore before the morning sun rose and forced him to find shelter in a particularly unpleasant abandoned gas station. It used to be that Neville could go town to town every few weeks and find a new nest of surviving humans, but as time wore on and challenges mounted people had taken to roving in bands, stopping only to rest and scout for supplies. This made Neville's job more difficult, both because it was getting harder to find people and because the ones that had managed to endure tended to be a lot better at defending themselves than those who had already been eaten. Neville was hopeful though- the disgusting gas station he slept in, full of rats and backed up toilets and a rancid grease trap that hadn't been emptied in over a year- also smelled like humans. He found signs of them all over- footprints in the dust, discarded medical supply packaging, used tissues with fresh dried blood. Someone had been in very recently, and they were hurt. With any luck, those people were still in the area.

He followed the scent through a growing winter storm, but it was faint and the freezing rain pelting the streets was also washing away any trace of their path. They were there, somewhere. Normally, Neville would systematically work his way through the city, sweeping through the street grid until he had successfully culled his prey. But he was weak from lack of feeding, and the streaming sleet was making him wet and irritable, so he decided to go with his Plan B.

Reaching under his shirt, he raked his nails across his chest, and felt the damp bloom of blood pool under his shirt. He smeared it across his clothes and face. Next, he took his arm with his right hand, and pulled as hard as he could until he felt his shoulder dislocate from its socket. Then he started to scream.

"Help! HELP!"

Neville stood in the intersection and yelled as loud as he could.

"Please help me! Somebody, please!"

Making a lot of noise was a big gamble. If there were any zombies around it was certain to attract them. But if there were any sympathetic humans around it would attract them, too. He banked on whoever would stop to care for an injured companion instead of abandoning them to the undead scavengers would at least investigate a distress call.

Already he could hear movement over the growing din of the storm. He listened closely- was it the sound of shuffling or running?

'Oh, good,' he thought. 'It's both.'

Even with his supernaturally sharp vision, the sleet made visibility low. To his right, something vaguely people shaped moved. He sniffed the air, but all he could smell was the sharp cold and the wetness of the rain on the pavement. More figures slowly materialized. They moved in uneven, jerking motions towards him, an ill-defined shadowy collection that moaned and spread to eventually block out the empty street.

Neville began to back away, exaggerating a limp.

"No! NO! Somebody help me, please!"

The horde grew nearer, but they were so slow, so dumb. Neville was really going to have to milk this one if he wanted it to look real.

"I'm hurt! Please, help me! Is anybody there?!"

Then he saw it. Just ahead of him, one block up. Two figures, one large one small. They were still, watching him, observing.

Humans.

'Finally,' he thought.

"Somebody please, help!" He screamed in their direction.

As the zombies staggered on ever nearer, he could see more details of them- their slacked jaws, their vacant eyes, their sagging skins. They reached out to him with their gnarled, boney hands. Dragging their feet as they advanced mindlessly towards their target, they emitted low growls and hollow groans.

Neville couldn't keep up the charade much longer. The zombies were getting too close, and soon he was going to have to do more than simply back away. But he couldn't let the humans see him fight. He couldn't let them know how strong he really was, not yet. 'They need more convincing,' thought Neville. 'Well, let's give them what they really want.'

"Please! Somebody! I'M A DOCTOR!"

People are wonderful creatures. They are social, loving, kind. They are capable of great empathy, of boundless generosity, of incredible strength in the face of adversity. People are brave, Neville knew, but more importantly, people are also selfish.

The two human shapes in front of him shifted positions. 'Yes!' The big shadow reached down for something. Through the rain Neville could hear the metallic click-click of a lighter. A small flame blazed.

Something whizzed past Neville's ear.

Suddenly his vision was filled with a bright, hot explosion. A blinding light cut through the darkness and consumed his vision in a white blaze. Neville's nostrils burned at the acrid smell of gasoline.

He felt warm hands clamp onto his shoulders.

"Come with us," a husky voice said.

The next thing Neville knew he was being half dragged, half carried away into somewhere deep and dark. His vision was still a blur. Creatures like him are not used to bright lights.

"Careful, he's hurt," a soft voice said.

"Don't matter," said the deeper one. "Mere'll fix 'em."

Neville felt himself being pulled away. The reek of gas and burning flesh faded. Slowly his eyes started adjusting.

He could see them a little better now. The big one holding him, a male, was broad and dark skinned. Neville could only really see him out of the corner of his eye, but he was obviously bulky and muscular, and his features were hard drawn. The other one, the small one, was female. She was short but stocky, with a tight blonde ponytail and a strong jaw with wide, full lips.

"Where am I," Neville rasped, feigning fear.

"It's okay, you're safe now," said the girl, wiping rain from her brow.

"Can you walk?" asked the big man.

"Y-es, I think so," Neville stammered. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"We can help you," the girl said. "Trust us."

'Excellent,' thought Neville.

"There are a lot of stairs," said the big man. "You're hurt. I'll carry you."

Before he could protest Neville felt himself be lifted over the big man's shoulder. They advanced up a dark stairwell, a winding, seemingly endless trek. Then he was placed less than gently on the ground.

Neville saw a candle lit room. Three more people were there. A man, seemingly injured, laid on a makeshift bed of clothes. A woman hovered over him, wiping his sweaty face with a cloth. Another man, tall, skinny, and pale with thin hair stood in the corner, wringing his hands.

So, this was what he had to work with.

"This man is a doctor," said the girl. "We found him outside. He's very hurt."

The skinny man came forward.

"Yeah, are you really a doctor?" he said.

Neville's eyes adapted better to the dim light. He fixed his face into a gentle expression, making his black eyes as large and soft as possible.

"Yes. Who are you?" Neville asked in a weak voice.

"They call me Big," said the big man. Neville could see him more clearly now. He was massive, a solid wall of flesh with glittering eyes and a recently shaved head. His face was strong, wide cheeks, square jaw, and pronounced brow ridge. To mere mortals he would be intimidating, but to Neville he was simply fascinating.

"Big?" asked Neville.

The big man smiled and puffed out his chest "A nickname," he said proudly. "Because I'm so big."

"Obviously," said Neville, suppressing an urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm Ash," said the girl. She appeared to be young. At least, he thought she was. Neville was not good at guessing human ages, but her face was smooth and unlined.

"That guy over there is Thomas, and this'll be my sister Meredith and her husband, Bill," said Big, gesturing to the couple on the floor.

The woman stood. She had thick, wild hair and bright, dark eyes. Her face was harsh like Big, but on her the hard features made her handsome, noble even. She looked squarely at Neville, her dark eyes shining and intense in the candlelight. She kept her distance.

"Where you bitten?" she said.

"No, I was scavenging in a building when the zombies came. They surrounded me and I had to jump out of window to escape. My injuries are mostly superficial, but I dislocated my arm in the fall. Which reminds me . . ."

Neville grabbed the wrist of his injured arm and pulled it forward and straight in front of him, guiding the bone back into his shoulder socket. He made a performance of grimacing and cradling his arm.

"Do you have anything I can use as a sling?"

"Yeah, yeah, hold on!" said Thomas, turning around and digging through one of the many beat-up rucksacks lining the room.

"Here ya go, buddy!" he said, handing over a shabby sweater. "This'll work, yeah? Ya need help?"

"No, I . . . "

Without permission Thomas took the sweater and began wrapping it into a sling. He stood immediately in front of Neville, so near their noses were practically touching, tying the ends behind Neville's neck. Neville had to tilt his head back to avoid Thomas's stale breath.

"Gosh, you're cold, buddy. Your skin is like ice!"

"It's freezing outside," said Neville. Thomas was so close Neville could hear the man's heart beating, pumping warm, rich blood through his scrawny body. Neville's stomach growled.

"Yeah, what were you doing going out at night anyway, buddy?" Thomas asked, leaning forward an inch from Neville's face.

"A lot of people's first mistake is assuming they'll be safer in the daytime, but all it does is shine a light and make you a clearer target. I find that it's a lot easier to go around undetected at night."

Meredith and Big exchanged knowing glances.

"Oh wow, yeah, yeah," said Thomas, still standing far too close.

Thomas was annoying. Neville couldn't wait to eat him first.

"Why are you alone?" Meredith asked suspiciously. Neville turned, grateful for the opportunity to break free from Thomas's close-talking.

"I'm not. My group is south of here, about a day's journey away. We've been sending solo members ahead as a sort of reconnaissance, and, well, it was my turn to go."

Meredith studied him for a moment. He could see her weighing her options, deciding if she could trust him or not.

"I can help you," said Neville softly, trying to look as sincere as possible.

Slowly, she nodded.

"My husband is hurt. It's not the zombie disease, he got hurt saving us." She moved aside, hugging the side of the dim room. 'She's avoiding me,' though Neville. 'Clever girl.'

Neville knelt by the sick man on the floor. His breathing was labored, and his face and shirt were soaked with sweat. His right pants leg was torn and completely black with blood. Neville's fangs itched.

With his free hand, Neville pulled back a damp flap of poorly applied medical gauze from the man's leg. The stench of rot emanated from a swollen, weeping wound. Red streaks streamed away from the uneven gash. Neville was grateful he wasn't capable of nausea. The man groaned and shivered.

"His wound is infected; he needs clean dressing and antibiotics. I had medical supplies and other provision with me when I was exploring the building. I dropped my bag when the zombies showed up."

Neville turned to face the group. They all stared at him, expectantly.

"I can help this man, but I need my bag. I'd go alone, but I don't really know where I am, and I'm still pretty beat up from my fall."

They shifted uncomfortably. Meredith and Big looked at each other, Thomas wrung his spindly hands, and Ash stared at her shoes. None of them wanted to go back outside, especially not now that the zombies were so close.

To make his point, Neville poked his finger into the man's leg. Bill screamed as milky yellow puss oozed out of the wound.

"He doesn't have much time," said Neville. He paused for dramatic effect. "Please."

Someone had to go with him. Not because he needed protection, the zombies were no more a physical threat to him than these scruffy humans. But he needed to feed, and he needed to lure one of them away so he could do it without drawing further suspicion. Neville didn't care who volunteered, though secretly he hoped it was Thomas so he could get rid of him as quickly as possible.

"I'll go," said Ash. Neville suppressed a smile.

"No, Ash, you-" Meredith protested.

"It's okay, Meredith” said Ash, gently touching the older woman’s arm. “I want to help. You stay here, with Bill."

Meredith looked mournfully at her husband, her face furrowed with fatigue and worry and something else. Neville recognized the look. Love.

'Humans get so attached to each other,' thought Neville. 'How useful.'

"Here, take my pack," said Big, handing Ash a backpack. "Got the basics- flashlight, hatchet."

"Yeah, yeah, what about water? I got snacks somewhere," said Thomas, rummaging again through one of the rucksacks.

"They don't need all that, they're just going to get the bag and come back," said Meredith, already back on the floor attending to her husband. Bill shuddered and rasped.

"Do you have any more of those- what even was that thing you threw?" asked Neville.

"Nah," said Big. "Gotta get more gasoline."

Neville looked at Ash. She straightened her spine to make herself taller and raised her squared chin, giving a small, thin smile. She was trying to look confident. 'I need to get her out now,' he thought. 'Before she loses her nerve.' He nodded and returned a terse smile. He hoped he looked like a reassuring presence, and not like the cat who ate the canary.

"Let's go," he said solemnly.

She led him down the stairs to the ground floor and back out to the street. The entrance emptied into a narrow alley that only had one way in and out. At least the rain had stopped.

"God, it's cold," muttered Ash, shivering and wrapping her coat tightly around her. Neville mimicked her movement in an act of solidarity. But he didn't really mind the cold. Ash took the rusted hatchet out and swung the backpack around behind her. She looked at him and nodded to signal her readiness.

They proceeded cautiously out towards the intersection where Neville had first encountered them. It was just one block away from the group's hiding place, no wonder they had responded so quickly to his cries for help. 'What amazing luck,' thought Neville. 'I could have been at it all night.' Neville was often lucky like that, he had to be to have lasted this long. More than strength, more than skill, more than intellect, the greatest thing a person could possess was luck.

In front of them were the smoldering remains of the horde from earlier, rank and putrid. There were just lumps of charred bits and shreds of fleshy matter. Whatever parts of the creatures that had survived the blaze had been picked over by their cohorts. Neville pointed directly at the burned street in front of them.

That way, he mouthed.

They stepped forward, Neville leading and Ash brandishing her feeble weapon. He could hear her struggling not to gag as they passed through the overwhelming stench of burned and rotting flesh. The ground was still wet from the storm and covered in decomposing viscera, and she slid on something slimy and dark. A quick yelp escaped her lips as Neville whirled around, catching her fall. He gripped her tightly and stared into her large, panicked eyes. He prayed she didn't realize how quickly he had moved.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Be careful," he said softly.

They continued on to the next block. It was empty, dark, and desolate, no sound except for Ash's shallow breathing. He had to move her farther out, and with no clear plan in mind he kept moving forward. 'Too bad the storm passed,’ he thought. 'It would have really covered the sound of screams.'

Several aching minutes passed as they continued silently through the dark streets, hyper-vigilant for any approaching sounds.

Neville heard Ash pause behind him.

"Can I ask you something," Ash asked meekly.

Neville turned around.

"Yes, of course. I want you to trust me."

"How can you stand it being out here all alone?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that," Ash continued, "you said the people in your group would go out alone. At night, even! Aren't you scared?"

Neville shrugged and turned his face so she couldn't see him smirk.

"I'm a survivor," he said.

He wondered how long he could lead her around. There was no building with a magical medical bag, but he needed her to believe there was long enough to lead her away. Ironically there really was a bag full of supplies, assembled from various encounters with other groups he has successfully stalked and preyed upon, but it was back at his camp in the gas station. Neville figured he would have to retrieve it before he went back, but there was no reason to take her that far. Besides, he was hungry.

Ash looked suspicious.

“We always go-"

Neville raised his fingers to his lips to remind her to keep quiet.

"Sorry," she whispered. "We always go in couples, at least. There used to be more of us, you see. We were doing so well here, we really were but then . . . "

Ash's eyes grew wet and glistening. He stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He could see now she really was so young.

"We, we . . ." Ash said, sighing softly, "We were scavenging for supplies just outside the city when we got attacked . . . Bill, you know, Bill? He was our leader. He was so brave. And Jason, you didn't meet him, Jason, he was my-" Ash swallowed hard. "He died protecting me. There were so many of those, of those things." She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears rolled down her soft face.

"It's okay," said Neville.

"It just happened, just outside of town. We're all that's left." She wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked up at him. "That's why I agreed to go with you. I owed it to Bill. To everyone. Thank God you're here, you can help us. We can join your group. We can be safe. We'll have . . . wait, I never got your name?"

Neville opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he heard something just to his left.

"Get behind me," said Neville.

Ash sniffled and moved behind him, raising her hatchet.

A single zombie emerged from around the corner. It shambled towards them, limbs moving spasmodically. Its eyes were gone, and its skull stood out against tight remnants of greying flesh, boney and severe. Most of the skin was stripped from its arms which hung languidly at its sides. Deep gashes raged across its exposed abdomen in long ribbons of skin and hanging muscle. A festering stomach wound opened, allowing its fetid guts to unspool and spill onto the ground, dragging behind it like streamers. With withered fingers it reached out a desiccated arm and moaned. Neville lowered his head and advanced towards the wretched creature.

"Wait," Ash said, grabbing his arm.

"Why? We can take him. It's just the one. They're so slow and dumb."

"No," she cautioned. "They're getting smarter."

Neville raised an eyebrow.

"I know it sounds crazy, but this was how it started."

Ash's plump bottom lip trembled. She looked at him imploringly.

"It's how they took us outside of town," she said. "At first there was just one, just some harmless creature but then . . . it was like they were baiting us. Like they knew. It was an ambush."

Neville regarded her skeptically.

"It's true! Carole, she was one of our best defenders, Carole followed this one creature down a path and then . . . and then . . . oh God, there were dozens of them! They drew us in! I know it doesn't make any sense, but it happened! They got us, they almost killed us all! Please!"

Ash tugged on Neville's arm. He relented, letting her lead him away down another street. They ran, her still clutching his arm. She stopped a block up.

"We can go around. I know another way," she panted. She reached into her backpack and pulled out the flashlight.

"Follow me."

Neville jogged behind Ash as she began flashing her light into broken windows of the surrounding buildings.

"What are you looking for?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Something bigger that we can use for weapons. There's more coming, we might need to fight them off!"

`"Wait, wait, shhh!" Neville put his fingers to his lips, and Ash held her breath.

The sound of movement, like lots and lots of stumbling, shuffling feet just around the corner. Neville could smell the rank odor clearly now that the air was clear. Ash's eyes went wide with fear. She was right, there were more. Lots more. Had those ignorant, decaying monsters really tried to orchestrate an ambush?

"We need to go back, now!" Ash cried in a hoarse whisper.

"No, we can't turn around now-my bag, it's just a few more blocks," lied Neville. It’s just two more blocks from where we were before we ran-please! He wanted this foolishness to be over. Ash pointed her flashlight along the ground, landing on a manhole.

Ash blinked, a look of sudden recognition crossing her face. "We can take the sewers! Sometimes the covers are loose, and we can move them. Jason took me through one once, when we first got to town and had to find quick cover."

'Inventive," thought Neville. 'These humans are teaching me so many fun tricks.'

They both leaned over and grabbed the large metal disc. Unthinking, Neville easily ripped it away from the opening. Ash gaped at him, then narrowed her eyes.

"How did you- with your shoulder and everything-"

"Adrenaline," said Neville quickly.

Ash stared hard and looked like she was about to say something, then her eyes shifted just past him. She gasped. Neville craned his neck around to see the beginning of a wave of zombies pouring out from around the corner. Ash stood frozen in terror, grasping her flashlight in front of her, staring at the oncoming mass of rotting corpses headed towards them.

"Get in, quick! They're coming!" he yelled.

She quickly slid down the hole, Neville following her down the tiny ladder mounted to the side of the wall. Once inside he reached over and dragged the cover back over the entrance just as the first desiccated foot plodded mere inches away.

They stood, ankle deep in watery sludge, silent, listening to the pounding sound of the horde above as it passed over the street. The only source of light was Ash's small flashlight.

"They can't get us now," said Neville steadily. "But we better get moving. Do you know the sewers?"

"Kinda. They're just in a grid, like the streets," said Ash, looking around and shinning her flashlight down a dark corridor. "You said we needed to go two blocks up? You're positive?" she asked turning back to face him, and accidentally shined the light directly into his eyes. Neville hissed and threw up his arms to shield his face.

"Sorry!"

"I'm very sensitive to light," he barked. He blinked his eyes several times, but he was effectively blind. In front of him he could hear Ash whimper.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. We need to keep going. I can just follow you, keep close."

Neville reached out his hand, and after a second of hesitation Ash gently took it. She led the way splashing through the foul dampness, and Neville followed close behind, turning when she turned. Hazily, he could see that her flashlight began to flicker, and she paused to beat it against her palm, hoping to jostle the batteries. The light kept blinking, growing dimmer.

"If this thing dies, we're really screwed," said Ash, her voice echoing against hollow tunnel walls. "It'll be pitch black down here." Neville was not as concerned.

She was moving quickly, breathing fast, heart beating so loud that Neville could hear it even though he was a foot away. He could kill her down here, of course, but he was already half-blind and disoriented and didn't want to be stranded in the sewers. He needed her guidance.

'Just a little longer,' he thought. Suddenly, she paused.

"It should be up there," said Ash. "I think."

"Let me, I'm stronger," he reminded her. He shimmied up the service ladder and pretended to push hard against the manhole cover, moving it to the side.

Neville expected some corona of light, but of course there was none. Just further darkness. They paused, waiting for any sounds of life. Or death, for that matter.

Nothing, except the wind.

Neville climbed out of the hole and looked around. His eyes had adjusted back to normal but all he could see was emptiness.

He turned around to help his companion climb back to street level.

They stood together in silence, collecting themselves on the vacant street.

Neville attempted to shakes the soggy grime from his boots. Ash's hot breath plumed in the cold, dark night, illuminating like storm clouds against the flickering of her dying flashlight. They stood there for a few seconds, everything silent except for the sound of her panting. Slowly, she turned and looked at Neville.

"Hey, how come . . ." Ash stared at him with her mouth still open and puffing for air.

"What?"

"You're not out of breath," she said, her face creased with confusion.

"Oh, I don't breathe," he said.

There was a moment of stillness where he could see Ash realize that he was, in fact, not breathing. Or shivering.

Or alive.

His stomach rumbled.

"Wait, are you . . ." Ash stammered, backing away slowly with her pathetic little flashlight pointed hopelessly in his direction. Neville just smiled and allowed his fangs to grow long in preparation.

"I told you, I'm a survivor. I have been for a long, long time. Now that I've found a new supply of humans, I'll have enough food to get by for at least the next month or so."

"You can't!" she whimpered. "We'll fight back! We-"

With movement so swift Ash couldn't perceive it, Neville was behind her, spinning Ash around and pinning her arms behind her back with one hand. Gripping her neck with the other, he effortlessly lifted her off the ground. Her flashlight dropped and cast a thin, winking beam of light out into the darkness.

"You can't fight me," he whispered into her ear, playing with his food.

"They'll know! They'll run once they catch on!" Ash gurgled, her throat working furiously against his clasping hand.

"What about Bill? Meredith will never leave him, and I suspect Big will never leave her. I'm not sure about Thomas, but I plan to eat him next anyway."

Ash struggled, but Neville's grip was a vice. Fighting against him with all her might, kicking wildly, she was powerless against Neville who remained an unmovable wall. He wound his arm around her neck like a python and stifled her screams with his palm.

"They can only go so far in the daytime. I'll find them at night. And I'll eat them all," laughed Neville, forcing her face towards his. "One by one."

He flashed a toothy smile.

Ash's flashlight finally went out, plunging them into inky blackness. 'No matter,' thought Neville. 'I can see in the dark.'

Finally, time to eat.

The End???