Natura Naturans, 5
I am struggling to keep this story alive, so apologies in advance if this part is weak.
My hands and knees were sore and my heart still in my mouth but the dozen bottles of water I’d managed to fill from Old Margs garden where sat neatly lined up on the sideboard in the kitchen. All I had to do now was boil them, that would take ages. I was using an old metal fire bin in the garden with the grill from the barbecue bent into place on top as a crude cooker but had rarely used it and found eating everything cold was less hassle, also the small amount of wood I could find in the garden and shed was fast running out regardless. The remains of the fence that was destroyed by the dog-beast would come in handy I suppose, even though I didn’t really want to hang around outside too much knowing that thing was still out there somewhere, but the water would need to be made safe. Jeez how I took the old world for granted. The simple turning on and off of a tap now felt like a decadent, impossible dream.
I took off my clothes and popped into a bath robe. The clothes felt horribly soiled but the real dirt was etched onto my memory and that was something that would take longer to clean away. I hoped that Old Marg wasn’t aware of what had happened, and their was no way to tell of course, but she certainly didn’t deserve any of what had happened to her. She was a good neighbour and a good person, I knew I would miss her. I’m not a man of any faith but I paused and said a prayer for her, I don’t know why, it just felt like the right thing to do.
I finished praying and sat myself down on the sofa. What on Earth is going on? I thought.
What was the incident? Why does the power come on then go off? What was that creature and where was it from? Was Old Marg a zombie? None of it made any sense. Zombies traditionally attack and kill, they have insatiable appetites, don’t they? I mean they’re not real and so the rules that apply to them apply in fiction only. But in her state of apparent zombification she simply stared at me. She didn’t get particularly close to me and certainly hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to eat my gizzards. So can I assume that she was a zombie and that in reality they aren’t dangerous? My brain ached, it was all just so surreal.
As for the beast, well I can’t even begin to explain what it even was. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a creature similar to that so the idea that it was simply a zombie version of a dog or anything else seemed impossible, and even if it was, it showed signs of aggression, unlike Old Marg. I suppose I could assume that they were both different phenomena, but they surely had to both be linked to one cause, the incident. What ever it is, it would be too far fetched to think that zombies and weird, alienesque monsters were separate but likely scenarios in reality and yet both had occurred at the same time in the same place.
They had to be linked, but how, and what could the incident be? My best guess would have to be the government was to blame, but I was quick to blame them for everything normally anyway; the fact remained that I had no clue what was going on and nothing made sense and applying any kind of logic to such an illogical situation wasn’t going to offer me any answers.
And as far as I could tell their were no people around to help or explain either. I had to assume that I was trapped here in my home alone, maybe forever, maybe the last man alive, trapped inside a nightmare.
And with that thought, the power came on, the radio that had been left switched on hissed. I should use the kettle while I can. I knew one thing for sure. Its safer indoors.