The Man at His Door

“I make no promises.”

Damien pulled the trigger, sighing as he did so. Blood coated the walls, punctuated by bits of broken skull and brain.  He ripped the man’s worn clothing, the fabric tearing easily. He wiped off as much of the gore as he could, and threw the newly bloodied cloth into the ever-approaching jungle, and heard several screeches and screams, then silence. He brought out a machete from the scabbard on his back, and cleaved off the man’s head, giving that to the horrors that dwelled just outside of the light as well. He heard a thick crunching sound, and the high screeching returned.

         He dragged the body into the dilapidated building which he would call home for the night. There was still much more work to be done. Much of the man was inedible; radiation poisoning did amazing things to the human body, as was evident from his current example. The man’s legs were mangled terribly, little nubs of hardened skin sticking out everywhere, blood oozing from intermittent sores. Damien didn’t know his name, nor did he much care to. The man had collapsed at Damien’s door, unable to move any longer. He had been crying, and was getting ready to take off his facemask and commit suicide when Damien found him.

         The man was obviously delirious, and in extreme pain. This was made more apparent by his question.

         “Are you an angel, sire?” he asked in a faked cockney accent. Damien was dumbfounded, unable to speak for a moment. He knew that trying to make sense of the man would not fail, and so spoke in the very insanity with which he was addressed.

         “Do you want me to be?”

         The man’s face was stolen over by relief at that. “Oh yes sir, yes yes sir, if you would be my angel I would be so glad. So very glad.” His voice dropped to a whisper near the end of this, and his hands went to his bare legs, caressing them. The man was like this for a moment, and then his head shot up.

         “Don’t you dare fuck with my body, though.” He said, all trace of the cockney accent gone. In place of it was something terribly deep and scratchy. His eyes were wild, wild as Damien’s own eyes had been not too long ago. He stared into them, shocked by the clarity of the blue. The only part of his body untouched by the radiation. They were beautiful, and it would be a shame to rid this world of yet another beautiful thing. Damien looked to the ground, then raised his head and gave his response.



[This story is not finished; I just wanted somewhere for the first few paragraphs to be archived.]