Status: Am still trying to write, but school is keeping me really busy
Hopeless Wanderer
Three
I heard him before I saw him. I walked only a few blocks down the street, trying to imagine this neighborhood on the day I arrived. Giddy excitement filled my mind at the time so not much else had stuck. I wished I could be strolling through with Will’s hand my own. Perhaps some kids would be riding their bikes in the street. Dogs would bark from behind privacy fences. Now, the area was still. I couldn’t help but wonder, is this what it was like to be a ghost?
As I paused to admire an exceptionally lovely yard, the noise hit my ears. I stilled, nearly dropping my bag, at the strangely familiar inhuman sound. The one that had filled my nightmares. Goosebumps dotted my flesh. My heart picked up speed. The groan filled the air, again. Realization hit me full force. Jeremy had made that noise. Newly panicked, I swiveled my head to search.
When I saw nothing, I calmed. My mind was projecting my nightmares into reality, I convinced myself. Jeremy died with furniture in his skull. Nobody else existed. So I ignored the sounds. Ignored them practically to my death.
My body whipped around when something grazed my back. Shock tore through me. A boy, probably eight or nine, stood before me a boy no longer. Somehow he’d lost a patch of flesh from the middle of his forehead diagonally down over his eye, ending at his cheek just below his ear. That monster growl escaped what little he had left for his lips, his teeth slowly exposing. I stepped back in terror even as a gasp of pity left me. What could this poor boy possibly have done to deserve this?
He stepped towards me, hands clawing to get me. I continued to step away. Had I not seen what Jeremy had done, I would have scooped the tiny body up into a hug and help him. As it stood, I feared him. He took as many steps towards me as I took away from him. I felt ridiculous fearing a child. He was sick; he needed me. Yet, his foggy, discolored eyes cemented my decision.
I ran. I turned from him and ran as fast I could, trying to ignore the tears falling down my cheeks. I know even if I wasn’t scared, I couldn’t help him. I didn’t understand what had happened to him. All I could do was take him to the doctor. If this abandoned neighborhood was any indication, doctor’s offices didn’t exist anymore.
The duffel bag rhythmically pounded against my knee, constantly threatening to take me out. My lungs labored away after going so long without any proper work. They gave out first as a horrible stitch in my right side developed. My legs slowed, a small burn running through my thighs and calves. As I inhaled greedily and exhaled warm air back over dried lips, I doubted how long I would last in this new world.
I let the bag drop to the sidewalk while I worked to catch my breath and slow my heart. I might be able to close everything inside, but I still had too much stuff. Frustrated and already tired, I yanked the zipper open. Not even sure what I would need, I just yanked a few things from the top. I didn’t know what to do with the stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to just toss it aside and litter the street. I pulled the bag straps up over my shoulders, allowing it to carry on my back to free my hands.
A few houses down the block, I spied a trash can sitting up by a large white garage door. I had to yank pretty hard to pull the lid up to deposit my castaways. I quickly let the lid slam back down to contain the mingled smell of heavy plastic and garbage baking in the sun. As it came together with a hollow bang, a jerky movement caught my attention out of my peripheral vision. I slowly turned, expecting my imagination to be toying with me after the run in with the boy.
This time it was a girl. She wore skinny jeans, ripped in places, and a UGA t-shirt, prominently displaying deep, long scratch marks criss-crossing her arms. Her light auburn hair had been yanked out in places, most likely quite painfully so. The blood smears on her face and arms showed beyond a shadow of doubt she had been in a struggle recently. Her eyes, though, gave her away first. What should have been white was now a deep, bloodshot red. Where her iris should be displaying brown or green, instead had turned a milky yellow.
A thought crossed my mind only briefly before I banished it, locking it away in a place that hopefully I would never have to revisit it. Was Will out there, stumbling around with his brown eyes gone? Was Will sick like her?
As I paused to admire an exceptionally lovely yard, the noise hit my ears. I stilled, nearly dropping my bag, at the strangely familiar inhuman sound. The one that had filled my nightmares. Goosebumps dotted my flesh. My heart picked up speed. The groan filled the air, again. Realization hit me full force. Jeremy had made that noise. Newly panicked, I swiveled my head to search.
When I saw nothing, I calmed. My mind was projecting my nightmares into reality, I convinced myself. Jeremy died with furniture in his skull. Nobody else existed. So I ignored the sounds. Ignored them practically to my death.
My body whipped around when something grazed my back. Shock tore through me. A boy, probably eight or nine, stood before me a boy no longer. Somehow he’d lost a patch of flesh from the middle of his forehead diagonally down over his eye, ending at his cheek just below his ear. That monster growl escaped what little he had left for his lips, his teeth slowly exposing. I stepped back in terror even as a gasp of pity left me. What could this poor boy possibly have done to deserve this?
He stepped towards me, hands clawing to get me. I continued to step away. Had I not seen what Jeremy had done, I would have scooped the tiny body up into a hug and help him. As it stood, I feared him. He took as many steps towards me as I took away from him. I felt ridiculous fearing a child. He was sick; he needed me. Yet, his foggy, discolored eyes cemented my decision.
I ran. I turned from him and ran as fast I could, trying to ignore the tears falling down my cheeks. I know even if I wasn’t scared, I couldn’t help him. I didn’t understand what had happened to him. All I could do was take him to the doctor. If this abandoned neighborhood was any indication, doctor’s offices didn’t exist anymore.
The duffel bag rhythmically pounded against my knee, constantly threatening to take me out. My lungs labored away after going so long without any proper work. They gave out first as a horrible stitch in my right side developed. My legs slowed, a small burn running through my thighs and calves. As I inhaled greedily and exhaled warm air back over dried lips, I doubted how long I would last in this new world.
I let the bag drop to the sidewalk while I worked to catch my breath and slow my heart. I might be able to close everything inside, but I still had too much stuff. Frustrated and already tired, I yanked the zipper open. Not even sure what I would need, I just yanked a few things from the top. I didn’t know what to do with the stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to just toss it aside and litter the street. I pulled the bag straps up over my shoulders, allowing it to carry on my back to free my hands.
A few houses down the block, I spied a trash can sitting up by a large white garage door. I had to yank pretty hard to pull the lid up to deposit my castaways. I quickly let the lid slam back down to contain the mingled smell of heavy plastic and garbage baking in the sun. As it came together with a hollow bang, a jerky movement caught my attention out of my peripheral vision. I slowly turned, expecting my imagination to be toying with me after the run in with the boy.
This time it was a girl. She wore skinny jeans, ripped in places, and a UGA t-shirt, prominently displaying deep, long scratch marks criss-crossing her arms. Her light auburn hair had been yanked out in places, most likely quite painfully so. The blood smears on her face and arms showed beyond a shadow of doubt she had been in a struggle recently. Her eyes, though, gave her away first. What should have been white was now a deep, bloodshot red. Where her iris should be displaying brown or green, instead had turned a milky yellow.
A thought crossed my mind only briefly before I banished it, locking it away in a place that hopefully I would never have to revisit it. Was Will out there, stumbling around with his brown eyes gone? Was Will sick like her?