Detachment

Detachment

The tree in the front yard had fresh kidneys hung from the branches sliced as beautifully as on Food Network. Medulla and cortex splayed out repeatedly like sacrilegious ornaments marring what may once have been lovely and joyous. The grass was sanguinous rendering the blades unwavering in the putrid breeze. The pond was also clotted with the heads of people I had seen in the grocery store and post office. They bobbed out their silent anguish from hollowed mouths. Entrails of all kinds decorated my walkway like many other houses but mine was worse because I know what they used to be. Knowing what happened to the previous host to these organs sickened me. Tattoos, scars, scalps, and jewelry spelled out their fate in the streets. They may have been the lucky ones.

I work in a vet clinic as a Licensed Veterinary Technician. Two weeks ago the murders started. First to take blame were the bears, then cougars, but virus is the latest theory. Capable of brining people to madness that ends in slaughter. That was not the worst of it. Some “survive” if you use the term loosely. Bodies broken, flesh and organs pealed or removed, they wander gurgling softly for a time. Then add to the next layer covering places our children used to play. No one knows what is happening!

The walking dead we found are not supernatural or viral but carefully crafted to live as long as possible with as little of their bodies left intact. Someone knows that keeping him or her alive is delicate work. All of the bodies have had most of their internal organs harvested but circulatory system repaired.

Cauterization was used to prevent any capillaries from releasing the necessary fluids. All faces lost their ears, noses, and scalps but the most grotesque is the hole that is left from the excision of most of the brain through the missing frontal bone and the dicing done to the other parts through the parietal and temporal regions.

Certain tendons, ligaments, and muscles have been detached to limit range but still allow movement. Every morning a new one is found near sprinklers or in showers. I believe this is am attempt to keep what is left hydrated lengthening the time they suffer. I also think that they are awake for a lot of this torture and failures are dumped into our yards and streets. Whoever is doing this knows how to cause the greatest panic.

Looking down the street I take in a detailed record of the carnage and prayed my son, Cullin would be safe.

Military personnel arrived to “deal with the problem”. No one believes they can. Most fled already. I don’t blame them! I tried.

All the animals in the area have been taken to quarantine to research the virus. For whatever that yields. The Vets went with them some, human doctors too, and everyone that could ran. I was forbidden to leave because of my connection to animals. “Just until the investigation clears you.” They said. I didn’t feel like waiting but a big gun in proximity does motivate in its own way. I took my boy home.

It’s now late night or early morning. The vicinity is dark. Every door and window barred to the best of the owner’s ability. Soon we will band together to search for supplies or escape if we can, if we make it through the night. I hope to get Cullin out on the next transport. If we make it. My son’s trusting sleep steels me.

Shots! Despite the echo I can tell they are getting closer! Are soldiers chasing something this way? I wake my son and dress him quickly. I notice other lights on then turn everything off and hide Cullin. “You have to be quiet! No matter what you think you hear stay here and not one sound!” I bark at him as softly as I can. “I love you and will be watching.” I kiss and hug him quickly. “HIDE!”

I know that no place near here is safe but what else can I do? I grab what I can and guard the door closest to the approaching sounds. I think about my unborn and my son sitting alone in the dark. I’m not showing though I’m in the third trimester. I was afraid to tell anyone, that they would think I was an easy target. Looting was on the rise. Now I wish I had asked for help! “Please Lord!” I repeat. I have nothing else. “Please Lord!”

I see the men! Running toward my house. Military guns Vs my kitchen knives? I’ll let them use their guns! “Come on!” They can help us! “Get in.” I urge quietly. Thank you God! I get my son and tell them everything I can about the house for defense. They radio back and forth with others who are unbeknownst to me. Then we hear something.

Probably a new “Zombie”. It is almost time for sprinklers to turn on though few do anymore. I can see the sun rising. Who wants to take chances? One of them went to check it out. His voice shattered the momentary calm, shots rang out, and silence returned. The rest of the men took up position around Cullin and I.

I don’t know what happened next! Everyone started shooting and pushing. We were in the basement. Trapped! The men died. Some more slowly than others. Then the presumed dead scout stepped into the light and finished them.

The fiend easily overpowered me and used my own crafting tools with some of his supplies to secure us. He cut my unborn from me, removed some of my organs, and moved to my son! I could see that he had also dissected my infant.

Then I heard the last sound my boy ever made.