Wonder

(gore warning)

I stand in this swamp, waiting. I can't help but wonder what will get me first, the gators, these beings, or my guilt. I suppose it's not my fault, and as I stand here dying I realize whatever overtook me is dying too. It must be weaker than my spirit, declining just fast enough for my right mind to seep through. Suffering in my moments and being so painfully aware of it is the least I could do. It's the precedent to the everlasting hell I see ahead of me, in life or death.

They moved slowly, creeping into rooms almost silently. They knew how to hunt. Zombies entered the media in a variety of ways, but no one had ever seen anything quite like this. They appeared overnight. After the initial bomb went off, we thought everything was over. Radiation swept the area but not closing into the town I called home. It wasn't 24 hours later when they started trickling in. 

It's unknown if they were once people. That would be the most logical idea. It got the people who were far away enough not to be melted flat into the ground, yet close enough to be poisoned. Turning them into menacing beings, quiet unless alerted. They didn't run, though they didn't need to. They could sense people. I don't think it's by smell or sight, even though that does contribute. It's like they just know. They are smart, too. They can rip boards off of doors, swim, and climb. And they know to go for your head. I've seen them grab people’s hands to stop them from fighting back. 

I'm not sure exactly what it takes to be killed by one. There are obvious reasons, like any contact with your blood flow. I’d be lying if I didn't admit most attacks I've seen were pure violence, just absolute force. It looks personal. Sometimes I hope I live long enough to see the scientific studies to come out when this is all over. 

When everything started, I had been woken up around 3 am to my best friend Jay at my door. He let himself in with the spare key he used far too often. I didn't think much of it at first, but he didn't come into the bedroom. I heard a backpack zip open as he started slamming things around the kitchen. 

I walked out of the room and before I could speak, Jay whipped around and grabbed my shoulders. 

“Rowan I need you to listen to me,” he spoke softly, but more concisely than I believed he was capable of. “Something is happening right now. Honestly, I'm not even sure how to explain it. There are things out there, we need to be quiet, okay? I need you to pack any first aid you have and some clothes.” 

For some reason, I didn't say anything. I didn't question him either, I just went and packed. 

Within minutes we both had a backpack and gym bags in tow as we ran through the neighborhoods. We ducked behind parked cars if we heard voices or an engine. We had our shoes around our necks, laces tied together. My dad had been in the army. He taught me things I never knew I’d need. 

Jay had a small fishing boat that could comfortably fit us and our bags. We got to it unscathed, though the horrors we saw on the way wouldn't soon be forgotten. The sun was beginning to rise as we rowed into the water and down the channel. We went through the marshes, deep into the forest. When we were kids we would take paddleboards out here to trespass in the old lookout. 

Jay was good at navigating the water, I never had to by myself. I was so attuned to following him that I didn't realize how lost I felt out here. The feeling dissipated when we climbed the lookout. We had spent so much time in here as kids. No one else could be bothered coming this far into the swamp, and surely not for an old tower. We had left books and an old metal firepit Jay had made from his father’s scrap pile. 

For the first couple of months, we had rationed the food from my kitchen. The bag of flour we hauled lasted us a long time. Jay would take the boat out fishing almost every day, giving us both some quiet time, too. We had rummaged through trash at a bunch of private docks along the channel, taking supplies to catch rainwater. I never thought the world ending would be so relaxing. 

At this point, the radios were still on and playing. There was news, with or without updates, every hour on the hour. In between, they would play music. Pretend as if everything was normal. The world had halted, and we were reminded no less than 12 times a day, as that radio never got shut off. People were still in their homes and towns, but the attacks didn't stop. After the first week, we considered going back to my apartment, but it seemed as though every day the number of attacks grew. The being's creativity grew, too. We were better off out here, if not from the things wandering around, then from other people more panicked than us. We had supplies, and where we didn't, we had skill. There were no chances to be taken. 

Around the three-month mark, it wasn't scary anymore. We became desensitized to the news, unafraid of the beings we no longer encountered. Nothing was around us besides the swamp, and a radio playing at quarter volume in the raised lookout wasn’t attracting any. Neither was the rowboat. We started to grow restless, I couldn't help it. Jay was my best friend but I was bored. The alone time in the lookout wasn't enough, and as Jay got even better at fishing, my time up here was invaded by the strings of fish drying on the deck. I missed my sense of freedom. 

One morning, after a loud and competitive game of blackjack, I waited until Jay left to fish and I went out for a walk. Though the area is a swamp, there's a dirt road of solid land between here and the main road a couple of miles out. I figured there was no harm in walking about halfway up and turning around. The sun was bright and I had a knife if I needed it. 

After needing to get out so badly I figured the walk would be short, time passing by before I realized I was back. To my surprise, it felt quite the opposite. 

When I had finally decided I’d gone far enough, I turned around to see someone following far behind me. Despite my usually skittish nature, I laughed. I walked towards them for much longer than I'd like to admit before I realized it was not Jay ready to tell me I was being unsafe. I didn't try to talk to it, I knew better than to run. I had seen what these things could do. I was defenseless, and Jay was far enough out on the water that he wouldn't hear me scream. I wondered if I could outwit a creature I knew close to nothing about. I suppose no one did. 

At this point, we stood 50 feet apart. It still looked like a person from here. I could see it trying to stand up straight. It was mocking me. I was staring in curiosity, not fear. I wanted to talk to it. Understand what it was thinking, and ask what it wanted. See if we could come to an understanding. But it wasn't a person. 

It put its hand out as if to be handed something. I felt a weird sensation, it felt like intuition but not my own. I reached into my pocket and tossed the knife to the creature. He reached forward, jolting unnaturally, depending on its elbows in a way humans couldn't. It grabbed the knife from the dirt like a toddler, fumbling it around until it clicked open. We kept eye contact as it forcefully sunk the blade into its chest. Its face didn't waver, and neither did mine. My peripherals could see blood slowly seep down the grey button-up shirt, but it didn't scare me. I wanted to touch it. I wondered if it was warm, I tried to smell it from afar. 

It kept eye contact as it pretended to collapse on the ground. I realize now it wanted me to go near it, to save it. I knew it didn't need saving but I needed to know more. I walked up and knelt beside it. 

Its eyes were fixated on the sky. I followed its gaze before returning my attention to its body. In a swift movement, I ripped the blade from its chest. The knife sliced down the shirt, moving it from its torso. I wiped the blood off and put the knife in my pocket. 

Its skin was grey. If I believed in aliens, I'm sure this is what they’d look like. His face looked like a blank slate of skin was being contorted to seem as if it had expression. The bones under the grey skin were defined, but it didn't look sunken. I reached forward and touched the self-inflicted wound. Its skin was rubbery, almost that of a shark. The blood looked fake. It was room temperature, though slick like real blood. If I wasn't looking I wouldn't know I touched it. 

Its eyes looked as though the pupils had dilated enough to cover any color in the iris. Its pores looked like they were breathing. I wanted to be closer to the being. I had never felt so touch starved like this. That thought was what knocked me out of it. I stood up, giving the being a nod, and stepped over it as I began my walk back to the lookout. 

I only looked behind me once the road curved. Then, I glanced back and saw the being still lying there, though propped awkwardly on one arm, watching. 

As began stepping through the less-defined trail to the lookout, I found myself growing paranoid. I kept thinking I had turned myself around.  My brain was going so fast that I couldn't remember what was a real memory and what was just a thought. I wondered if I had made it up. My hands were stained red from the blood. 

Jay didn't make me tell him. He found me sitting on the deck looking at my hands. He asked if I was injured, if I was okay, and if I wanted to talk about it. I shook my head no three times. I haven’t said much since then. 

When people are going crazy they always say they hear voices. I can’t hear myself in my head anymore. I hear nothing. I want to say I feel nothing, but I have this anger deep down in my stomach. I feel it growing every day. I try to listen to nature and it makes it better. 

Then Jay stopped fishing every day. He said there was enough dry fish. He said he was worried about me. He said we should go into town. He said every string of words this man could think up. He talked and talked and talked and I never did. I didn't have enough in me to ask him to stop. I didn't have the thoughts to even understand that I wanted him to. I could think, but only of the creature. It was so different from us. What made it different? Who’s to say my skin wasn't made of rubber too? 

We lived like this for a couple of weeks. One day when Jay went to grab the water buckets, I had a thought I actually heard in my head. Before I could try and ponder it I just acted. I lost myself completely until now, but I remember. 

I walked outside as Jay was coming up the stairs. He looked up and smiled. He got in the habit of commentating on his chores. I'm sure he thought it was helping, but with every word that pit in my stomach grew. It felt like acid was chewing its way up into my chest until finally, it burned my throat. At the exact moment he smiled up at me two things happened, every thought I should've heard concerning the anger hit me at once, and my foot landed square in his chest. The thoughts stopped. 

He must've been surprised because instead of dropping the buckets and grabbing the railing, he fell backward down the stairs. He half sat on the landing looking straight ahead, as if to process what happened. I could hear the thoughts slowly get louder. As they did, the rage burning in my chest somehow grew too. Every step I took toward him slowed them down. He stood up, saying my name as I shoved him over the railing. No use in tumbling down three more flights. I slipped through the posts and landed on top of him. I heard a snap and I thought was my ankle. It might've been him. 

He looked up at me more confused than scared. I wonder if I looked like one of them. I pulled the knife out of my pocket. He already had blood coming from his mouth and the back of his head. He kept speaking. He was ruining it. 

He tried to grab at my hands as I dug the knife into his chest, just as the creature had. I would've preferred to do this standing up. I couldn't tell if he had lost strength already or if he was being gentle. The rage flooded out of me with every drop of blood that left his chest. I didn't expect it to look so comedic, and I laughed. The creature’s blood was most definitely fake, but Jay’s blood spewed out past the knife as if in a campy horror film. Maybe I was a scientific researcher. 

One of the water buckets lay next to him, he only let go when he saw the knife. I pulled it over and placed his hand into it. He said my name again. 

I looked him in the eyes as I asked, “Across or up and down?” 

He looked away towards nothing. Now that I wanted to know his thoughts he wouldn’t talk? I opted for both. 

He stared at the sky now as I continued. His breathing slowed to allow me to do what I needed to do. I gently pulled the knife downwards. I realized then that the snapping I heard was probably him, as one of his ribs poked toward the opening. I reached in and snapped off the other side. He didn't move. I put it between his teeth, just in case he woke up again while I was busy. 

I spent a long time watching the blood drain from his skin. It became almost translucent, while everything around us turned much more colorful. His skin stayed warm. I wiped my hands on his clothes periodically, laying my hands on his chest. I expected it to be like the creature, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft where the creature wasn't. 

I was intrigued by the being. Interested in the coldness of the skin and the lack of temperature in the blood. When it came to Jay, I loved the warmth. It didn't fill me with anger. It took it away. I had another thought seep through. I had to get him away from my lookout before he too became cold. 

I knew I had to think, but I couldn't figure out how. Every action I had taken had been placed right in front of me, moment by moment. Now I needed something with outside influence, and I wasn't able to think. 

Just then I heard a splash in the water only 20 feet to my left. I turned, feeling the anticipation of the next step. The creature was there. I stood up and turned to face him. 

He held out an alligator by its tail. I knew what to do. 

The being stood next to me as the gator ate its meal. At one point, he spoke. 

“You did a good job.” 

It didn't take long. Turns out alligators can eat bones.