Morbid Bite

0 :: Carnage

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MORBID BITE

Prologue: Carnage

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December 18th 1864. Chartres.

An already deep white shield covered the valley as the snow fell heavily onto the ground. The evergreen trees were just visible through the blizzard, their stumps hidden under the white blanket. Yet, the idyllic scene was eerily silent, the birds quiet in the trees, the animals hidden, and a metallic smell of blood filled the air. Among a clearing in the trees there lay a sea of scarlet blood and torn off limbs which scattered the ground. The screams of the victims could still be heard echoing around the clearing in the forest. In the trodden snow lay a boy, surrounded by the circle of cadavers. His skin was pink with the cold and his eyes shut, furrowing his youthful brow into deep lines. The snowflakes melted on his warm skin as his chest rose at a jagged speed. His body did not seem affected by the icy winds that howled around him. The child's hair was plastered to his face in a frozen blooded halo. A small cough escaped his mouth, revealing a cut cheek that spilt blood onto the snow. A thudding trembled the earth, a rude awakening for the boy, whose eyes shot open and quickly refocused. His grey eyes were unfazed by the horror around him.

The pounding came to a steady pace as three blue-coated infantry soldiers emerged through the forest to enter the carnage. Their faces were flushed, and their bayonets drawn. All three stumbled to a halt when they noticed the bodies that crunched under their feet.

"Oh putain," one of the soldiers whispered as he removed his bicorn to respect the dead.

The boys back faced the three men, his body absolutely still, he could sense their presence, but was terrified it could be the person responsible for the death around him back to finish him off. His eyes darted around, frantically searching for some sort of weapon within his reach. All he could remember was red everywhere, the screams of his father's friends as they were ripped apart, with a petrifying ruthlessness.

One of the men kneeled down into the snow, just beside the boy. But his attention was drawn to a severed arm. The boys body too hidden among the blood to draw his attention.

"What the hell happened?" the Sergeant exclaimed; turning a gold ring around the finger of the hand he was studying.

"We're not sure, sergeant. One of the villagers stumbled across...this." The man gestured to the bodies. "She was hysterical and wouldn't stop screaming, we all thought she was exaggerating." His face went pale as looked down at the torn-up bodies.

The other soldier gagged as his frozen boot stepped through the rotting flesh of a man's jaw. Without warning he vomited over one of the figures, his stomach unable to cope with the horrific sight. His hands dug into to his diaphragm, trying to stop his breakfast from reappearing. The sergeant looked disapprovingly at the soldier as the smell of vomit mixed with the already putrid air.

"Try to identify the bodies," the sergeant said turning to the one soldier who was only white with shock. "And, you," he spat, pointing at the vomiting man, "Run back to the village and tell them that the missing hunting party has been..." The sergeant was stopped as he heard the boy moan. He placed a hand on the boys blooded back, turning his tiny body in the snow.

"My god he's alive!"

The other solider jumped over the bodies, ripping off his jacket and throwing it over the naked boy. He kneeled down helping him to sit up and tightened the cloak over the child.