Carrion – Part 1

The rain scudded across the city as Martin sat at his desk, the glow of the screen illuminating him in a ghostly white light that made his already pallid skin translucent. His fingers tracked across the keyboard, tapping out sentence after sentence, pausing occasionally to stab a nail-bitten fingertip at the Return key. After ten minutes’ frantic typing, Martin sucked in a huge breath, his chest puffing out like that of a prizefighter who has suddenly realised his opponent is bigger and stronger than he’d been led to believe, and he reached over to click his mouse, to send the email he’d been crafting the past hour.
“Touch that mouse and you’ll regret it,” a voice said, its command stopping Martin’s hand as it hovered above his mouse, a trembling finger poised to push down. “Don’t do it Glover, we’ll slice you in half from here before you’ve even finished the thought it thr…”
The voice was interrupted by a cackle of laughter. “Too late for that, Scott, that thought took place a long time ago, way before you considered me a threat. The email has already gone. You’re too late. I was just about to delete it.” Martin began to turn in his chair, to face the interruption. As he did so, he used his elbow to click the mouse, an almost indiscernible ‘tick’ as it did his bidding, sending the email out into the ether.
Suddenly, a bright sweep of light sped towards Martin, slicing his prone body across his torso, blood squirting in an arc of red, splashing as it met walls and floor. Moments later, four bodies were leaning over Martin’s quivering form; he was still alive. Just. His laboured breathing a sign that soon, his life would be ending.
“Why Martin? Why? It could have all been so different. Now, well, now you’ll know the suffering you’ve brought on so many others by your recent actions.” A smile flickered across Martin’s face, but his eyes betrayed his fear. He tried to spit at his assailants but the wound in his chest burbled blood as his lungs tried to expel the air. “Sorry Martin, did you have something to say? I didn’t quite catch that remark.”
When he said nothing, Scott raised one hand. It was the sign that they could begin feasting – and they did. Four hungry, sucking mouths pulling at the fleshy edges the lesion on Martin’s chest.

You have one message. Message one, Tuesday 21st April at 9.40pm.
“Hey Martin, you there? Pick up if you are. It’s Scott. Okay, ten seconds says you’re not, so call me when you get this. I’ve discovered something and we need to move fast. Cheers buddy.” Beep.

You have one message. Message one, Tuesday 21st April at 10.05pm.
“Help, fucking help me. Maaaaarrrrr…” Beep.

There is no time left, it’s happening. It’s gone beyond the concept of what we thought they had in mind; it’s taking things too far now. Run. Hide. Do whatever you can to save yourselves. Take weapons, you’ll need them some time later. Speak to no one. Trust? Not even yourself. This email is the last communication; we are being monitored and believe there is little time left. Hope to see some – or all – of you at the designated meeting place. You’ll be informed where that is in the usual way. Best, Martin.

First days, they’re always boring. Time spent in queues, writing my name on a list for subjects I won’t take, meeting people whom I don’t want to meet again. And for what? To be seen to fit in. Well, it’s not for me. All I need to know is: where’s the bar and what time does it open?
It’s weird to find myself here; happened because it was pissing with rain, like someone was spraying the world with a pressure hose, and I wanted to escape a drenching. Ducked into this hall, handed a clipboard and pen and led to a chair. A few ticks later and I’m accepted on a course. Some minor college, this place; a musty smell emanating from the cream-coloured walls and green-tiled floor, as if no one had opened the building up to the outside world for centuries. I’d just left a series of dead-end jobs and wanted to re-educate. This was an opportunity and I took it by the hand and practically raped it in the bushes, so glad was I at not having to trawl the cards in the Job Centre for some God-forsaken existence cleaning bogs, picking up litter, kissing the ass of some idiot in a suit. Besides, I’d already been there more than once and wasn’t up for another visit.
Around me, milling about like bees in a hive, were the other students. Mostly spotty kids, a few tasty female specimens I’d like to acquaint myself with later, but no one that seemed to on my wavelength. A tap on my shoulder and I spun around, prepared to get weighty with whomever was behind me; I didn’t like being tapped by anyone. Stood in front of me was a wiry young man, blond hair gelled to a series of peaks and light stubble across his chin. He was about my height, but I reckoned I could take him in a fight if it came to it.
“Reckon you could ‘ave me in a scrap then do ya?”
I was taken by surprise that he been able to read my thoughts so well. I said nothing, stared at him while trying not to give too much away in my face. It was too late for that I was about to discover.
“Rethinking are we? Well, while you’re standing there wondering let’s get a fucking drink, I’m parched.”
This was my introduction to Scott.

To Be Continued