Visage | ONC 2023

FOUR:

Gerry dragged me back into Bundo's by the collar of my shirt. He tossed me against the front tables, and without stopping, rushed to the windows, and closed the blinds and curtains. He locked the door next.

Flesh. Blood. You need more.

With my hands gripping the back of a chair, I watched him. And heaved. Jimmy's remains poured out of me in chunks, with hot, splattering blood.

I was in pain, sweating profusely.

"Shit, shit, shit, Axel." Gerry turned his back against the door and watched me. The knife he had fell to the floor. He kicked it away as if it scratched them, then squatted, hands on his face. "What the fuck happened?"

I gagged at the last bits of Jimmy slipped off my lip and stumbled back into the table behind me. My hands shook as I wiped at my mouth. My vision blurred. Thoughts of Jimmy's screaming face, the invigorating feeling of his blood sliding down my throat, and Riley's terror flooded my mind.

What is happening to me?

"I told you to throw out the trash, Axel! Not—" Gerry hissed. "Why the hell is—how are you like this?"

Pulling a chair close, I sat down. I needed to. My legs were giving out. "I saw Riley," I coughed.

"Your girlfriend? Your infected dead girlfriend!"

Yes, my infected girlfriend.

"You opened the door to your infected girlfriend?" Now he was shouting. Pushing up from his knees, he crossed the front of the shop and grabbed me by my collar. He disregarded the blood on my clothes. It stained his shirt, drenching his chest, even.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he shook me. "I couldn't help it," I whispered. "She said something, I caught a whiff, and—"

"You smelled her?" Gerry let me go and stepped away. His hands shot up into his short hair. The few strands he had, he tugged, grunting. "Fuck, Axel."

The rumor was their scent; infections passed in the air. They carried it with them, releasing it into the air when they spoke when they breathed. It floated in the wind, and it spread like wildfire if there were enough of them.

Based on what Jimmy said when he told Riley to go back to the safety zone, there had to be.

"Okay, this is fine." Gerry turned and doubled checked the front door. "No one knows what happened. I just..." He sighed. "I'll call Mertz in the morning. He's my doctor. He'll be discreet."

Pushing off the door, I thought he was walking toward me. But walked past me. He rounded the counter and grabbed a garbage bag. "I just need to get rid of the body."

My breathing slowed. The pain eased. I stretched my fingers to crack my bones before rolling my shoulders back. "The body?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Flesh, nourishment.

"Yes." Gerry faced me, shaking the bag open. "What do you think? Should I cut it? Wrap it?" He held the bag open in front of him. "I'll wear a mask."

He was calm; panicked but calm.

"Gerry," I pushed up from my seat and walked to him; struggling with each step, "leave it alone."

"Leave a dead man with a half-eaten body outside our back door?" He blinked at me. It did sound ridiculous when said out loud.

"Gerry," I huffed.

Why was he helping? Getting rid of the body meant he was covering up the crime. When the infected passed through our gates, it was all over the radio; HazMat came in and cleaned up the pieces. In this case, I would be a piece; I would be tossed, burned, and removed.