Del Griffith

A scratch. A shuffle of feet. An unwanted presence.

I stare into the gloom, trying to spot the intruder. A brain eater, no doubt, looking for food. It picked the wrong place — and the wrong guy. I’m blessed with invulnerable blood, so their bites don’t turn me. They irritate the hell out of me, though.

A figure approaches cautiously, stripping off its clothes and stopping thirty feet from me. It turns, showing me clear, unblemished skin. 

An uninfected human.

#

Being a gentleman, I strip for her. She nods. Once we put our clothes back on, we meet face to face. I offer her a roasted rat. Surprisingly, she declines.

#

“They’re all gone. The zombies, I mean. Run out of food and just died. Been on the road for years. Killin’ eaters and foraging for food. Ain’t seen an eater in a decade. Or a human.” She munches on a carrot and drinks deeply from my water supply.

Her name is Jade, and, as I suspected, she also has invulnerable blood. Being polite, I tell her my name.

“So. Barkley is it? How long you been here?”

“It’s Barkley. Five thousand three hundred sixty-seven days.”

“Fuck me! And you’re still here in this shithole subway?”

I want to say something rude to her, but I don’t. I also don’t answer her, hoping to come across as being rude.

“I could have been a zombie. Why did you come down here?”

“I heard your voice. Eaters don’t sound like you. Besides, they’re all gone. I think I mentioned that.” 

Sarcasm. I didn’t like it any better now than I did in the old days.

I pause, trying to get my words right, not having much practice speaking to a human in the past eleven years.

“It was a song. A piece of a song. You can’t always get what you need.”

“Sing some more of it.”

“That’s all I remember.”

She searches my face. I’m being inspected, graded, and stamped (or not) for approval, just like the times when humans ate large animals.

“What now?” I ask merely for information, since her presence has become tiresome.

She looks at me as if I were stupid. I’m not. I’m cautious and prudent.

“We go out. In the sunshine and the greenery. Live life as best we can. Get out of this ugly city. And you need to get out of this fucking hole.”

I refuse to go with her. In the morning, I find her charcoal message scratched on the cement. 

#

Bark,

I’m gonna catch me a duck in Central Park and feast, then I’m heading north to find a place by a lake. Feel free to join me if you can find me, or just fuck off. You got a choice, you know.

#

I chew my first rat of the day, make a mark on the wall, and contemplate her words.Idiot. In days like these, rats and subways are the better way to live.

Del’s prompts were: Underground, Enhanced Human, an Infectious Agent

Del is a math nerd and a barbecue aficionado. He spends his days spinning yarns and avoiding any pretense of work. He appreciates Happy Hour margaritas and the magic of watching his grandson grow up. He is not on intimate terms with his razor, but his cowboy hat never leaves his side. His preferred last meal would include French fries and country gravy.