The Accident

I waded through the dense, swamp-like ditch as my limbs began to fail and I could no longer move. I could feel the gravity sucking me deeper into the sludge. The swamp was slowly swallowing me as I thrashed against the goo.

Firm, warm hands clasped around my shoulders and heaved my limp body out of the hungry ditch. Little did I know that my love would be the death of me.

*

“Hide!” I hissed worriedly, pushing Gemma vigorously under the hard, shielding table.

I could feel her small, fragile body trembling ferociously against mine. Her tiny, shaky hands locked desperately around my neck as her thin, malnourished nails dug deep into my skin. The screams were only getting louder. Closer. That meant They were coming.

I jumped with shock at the sudden surge of thunderous bangs booming from the doors and windows. Flinching away from the ear-splitting reality, I took a protective stance over Gemma’s quivering body.

“We’re going to be okay,” Brennan whispered as he clumsily joined us under the table, “we knew this would happen, and we’re ready.”

He was right. We’d had warnings of this ambush many long months before: news reports, newspaper articles, radio reportings. We’d had so much time to prepare, but now that it was all really happening, our preparations did not feel adequate, the warnings did not feel thorough.

We were NOT ready.

Brennan pulled Gemma gently into his arms and rocked her comfortingly. I began to sing her private lullaby soothingly as my only child panicked wildly. Horror rolled down her spine and flushed through her system. She shuddered and shook, completely traumatised, as her worried eyes flickered from one side of the dark room to the other.

In that instant, the door soared across the room and landed with a deafening crunch, smashing into our cluttered fireplace, crumpling our pictures, our postcards, our livelihood.

“Parasites!” Brennan spat angrily as the diseased, mutated human-forms raided our once perfect, family living room.

Their pale, yellow-skinned hands infected our belongings, damaging everything they touched. Their contorted, scaly, repulsive faces held distant filmy eyes that, lifelessly, scrutinized every inch of the room for a human presence. For us.

Our home was dead.

The lively, colourful, welcoming sanctuary it had once been was unrecognisable at that moment in time. They had drained the life and soul from the room, as they did to millions of innocent people. The wallpaper had dulled to a depressing, empty grey and bubbled with damp. The overpowering stench of vomit and rot was as strong as the foul secretion of a skunk.

I gasped in absolute terror as I was sucked back into the reality of our situation. One of Them had spun our table over, leaving us vulnerable and exposed.

The sharp, noisy clatter distracted them all long enough for us to put our plan into action.

“Look after her,” Brennan whispered cautiously as he hurriedly tucked Gemma into my arms. He pressed his lips to mine swiftly as he hauled me up and pushed me forward. My heart was thrumming unhealthily fast as I bolted down to the basement, avoiding contact with anything and everything in case of infection.

“Gemma, baby, we’re going to be okay,” I murmured in a hushing tone to calm her nerves as I sat her on a battered old stool, “just stay there, don’t move.”

I turned rapidly to the small box-like window just above the ground outside and pushed it open.

“Macy! Hurry!” Brennan yelped desperately, the tone in his voice sent shivers down my spine, “Pass me Gem!”

I swivelled back around towards Gemma, my hands, instinctively, reaching for her. I froze in horror, my eyes staring widely at her pale-yellow, lifeless face. I screeched painfully as I stared into the eyes that had belonged to my daughter.

“What’s happening?” Brennan demanded, the panic seeping out of his voice, “What’s going on?”

I was fixed in place, completely traumatised. I couldn’t answer him.

“Come on!” Brennan urged nervously as I wasted even more time lingering over our precious daughter’s body. I shifted sluggishly to the window, reluctant to leave her. I turned back to take one last traumatic, heart-wrenching look at my loss. My fatal mistake. The accident…

*

I could feel the dew drops slide peacefully and gently from my long hair onto the damp flattened grass. The sun rose from the peaks of the burnt orange towering mountains as the sky changed discretely from a fruity orange to a magnificent pearl-blue. Light danced over the native trees, though never reached my eyes through the barricade of thick, vibrant, green leaves.

The thought of another day of endless trekking did not look so appealing, though I had to endure it if I would ever find Brennan.

I trudged towards the mountains.

The bottom of the mountains, that’s where we’re headed.

I sighed with contentment. I had memorised Brennan’s voice to perfection. He had to be there. He was all I had to live for.

A sudden screech escaped my lungs as I lurched forward and felt my legs sinking in a thick liquid beneath me. I moved viciously, trying to escape the ditch, but nothing would work. I was trapped.

I waded through the dense, swamp-like ditch as my limbs began to fail and I could no longer move. I could feel the gravity sucking me deeper into the sludge. The swamp was slowly swallowing me as I thrashed against the goo. Firm, warm hands clasped around my shoulders and heaved my limp body out of the hungry ditch.

“Ugh!” the man made a disgusted noise, “You! You traitor!”

My heart stuttered and faltered. Brennan.  My eyes uncontrollably flashed open with a craving to see his face. To know he was alive.

“Brennan, I’m not one of them!” I protested, wiping the tears off my cheeks.

“You may as well be one of them for all the good you’ve done,” he spat cynically.

I hunched over, cradling myself. The pain in my chest was searing right through me. The emptiness was invading my heart.

A satisfied grunt escaped Brennan’s lips, “Feeling guilty, huh?” he pressed, “And it was what?” he snarled, “An accident?”

My heart was pounding, my head spinning, my stomach churning.

“I can’t let you make anymore mistakes… Cause any more accidents...” he spoke through clenched teeth as he aimed a small, rusty, old gun to my head. I could see the anguish in the planes of his face, the loss, the misery…

Bang.

Little did I know that my love would be the death of me.

(Written by a friend of Fakra :D )