Light shone
through the slit of the metal blinds, pale in color. Dust rode upon it from the
source to his cheek. The angle changed slowly until it eclipsed his eye. He
couldn’t lay there anymore, he had to get up or at least roll over if he wanted
to stay on the bed without interruptions.
A light flashed on the wall in
the living room, accompanied by a small beeping 29. So many missed calls. So
many attempts to create a connection; all failed. It was dark in the flat, all
the blinds were closed and the florescent light in the kitchen was dim. He
didn’t lose his way however, he’d memorized the pattern of garbage and dirty
clothes on his floor. It made a path straight to the kitchen. A path in the
forest of his apathy.
The last three weeks culminated
to this point in time. All the missed calls, all the knocks on his door, the
flashing voicemail notifications, the darkness. He couldn’t let himself venture
out of his one-bedroom flat. The crippling comfort of it stayed him. It was a
comfort and a burden. The rooms were a mess, the kitchen was overflowing with
dishes and a mold started in the bathroom. He wallowed in his filth, not daring
to unseal the jar that had become his life, lest he risk spreading his sickness
to others.
He flicked the light switch to
the bathroom, only one light buzzed to life. The panel to the circuit boards
was broken open and half the circuits were missing. Three hung from their
slots, broken, swinging as the breeze from his body passed. It didn’t matter
though, the feeble light from the single row of diodes was enough to form deep
shadows on his rugged mug. The circles under his eyes deepened and the patches
of hair on his chin grew differently. He looked horrid, yet he didn’t care to
shave.
He stared in the mirror for a
good while, scanning the creases in his face, the depth of the shadows now
present around him. A long sigh escaped his lungs. The phones light flashed
silently in the next room, the number changed to 38. How long had he been
standing in the bathroom? How long? His eye dropped down the side of his arm
and traced the growing red vine like mass slowly creeping up towards his chest.
The sight of it didn’t bring shock anymore, it had become a part of him. A part
of his world. Just like the garbage, the filth, the mold. Another little thing
taking a hold of him. He touched it gingerly with his outstretched
fingers and it pulsed with pain. He remembered the moment of contamination. In
an effort to protect the others he had locked himself away but he wasn’t
withering as fast as he hoped. He’d heard talk, so long ago, about it taking a
few hours then there was a point of no return. The cleaning crews used fire to
quell it but he didn’t have the nerve to set himself ablaze. He’d just let it
slowly consume him.
His feet brought him back to his
room. The beam of light that leaked through the bent metal blind had shifted
angles again. It hit a turned over picture frame, glass shattered around it.
Parts of a bottle. Barren book shelves and stained white walls. No path lead
over to that picture. The floor was overgrown with clothes and other random
things, thrown over time to hide any way of getting there. The bed was the only
somewhat empty thing in this place. Empty until his body slide back under the
single cover. When will it take me? His mind drifted as the pain
subsided into dreams. Dreaming of a time before contamination, a time when the
fires weren’t so frequent and the fear of breathing the outside air was
unthinkable. A time before…
A call had
come through to the local cleaning crew about an eerie clawing at the walls in
flat 309. They had loaded up their gear and made their march up the stairs and
the lead man knocked at the door. He pressed his ear against it and heard the
scratching first hand. It was infrequent and staggered. He called out the name
of the tenant and the scratching stopped but there was no movement towards the
door. The man stepped back to let the next man break down the door. He pried
the door open with a great thrust of his crowbar and the air rushed past them.
Dust danced in the air as they walked inside the dark flat. They flashed their
lights around and could see the red tendrils of the parasite dancing its way up
the walls. It would need to be burned, there was no doubt in that.
As the lead man turned the
corner he could see the scratches on the wall. It was near the phone terminal
as if the person was trying to make a call but had forgotten the process. His
light traced the wall until he saw it. A red mass of vines pulsing in time with
a heart beating. Outstretched from the blob was an arm almost completely
engulfed in red. As the light traced the figure the other men shuddered. He let
the light flow up the creature’s frame towards what he could only assume was
its face and it turned abruptly. Two of the men behind him fell as it began to
screech and bellow its swan song. It reached forth to touch the others but was
quickly engulfed in flame. It cried and squirmed but it did not move for long.
What began in darkness, had
ended in fire. Like it was supposed to. Like he had hoped it would.
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