Hunger, Pt. 5

She bit her lip. “Can’t it wait until after?”

The smile disappeared from his face. He leaned forward in his seat, the thin muscles in his body tense as wire. He’s going to get up, she thought. Panic filled her. He’s going to leave.

He never did, and she knew it, but the hunger supplanted the rational part of her mind.

“No,” he hissed, “it can’t. If I don’t tell you now, you’re going to be on the nod and you won’t remember a goddamn thing. And then you won’t do what I tell you, and then I’ll get angry, and then I won’t come back. And you don’t want that, do you?”

She could only shake her head no.

He smiled. He sat back down. He drew a clear fluid into the “Good girl. Now. Listen closely. His name is Ryan Peterson. He lives at 55 Magnolia Lane. Abandoned building. Pretty sure they’ve knocked down some of the walls and taken over most of the top floors. He’s got a lab, a real lab. Probably some guards. Definitely some cooks.

“I want you to kill them all.

“I want you to tear their fucking heads off. Rip them apart. Break off their legs and shove them up their assholes. I want it messy. You got it?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on his arm, on the tubing, on his veins. She watched them twitch under his skin. She could smell them, could feel the warmth of the blood trapped in them. She ran her tongue across her lips. “What about his stash?”

“Destroy it. Burn it. Everything. I want whoever finds them to get a very clear message: ‘You are not safe. No one is safe. This is not your town.’” The needle slipped into his vein. He flicked the plunger up, pushed it back down.

His muscles tensed, then relaxed. His eyes shut, fluttered behind their lids.

“S’my town. It’s my town…”

She leaned in close, reached for his arm, her lips parting slightly.

He batted away her hand. “Not yet, goddamnit,” he slurred. He fumbled for the other syringe, drew up liquid from a yet untouched vial, clumsily shot it under his skin. He winced. “Ugh. Burns.” He turned towards her, his head loose on his neck. “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Can I–”

“Thirty seconds. You know the deal. Let me hear you count.”

She counted, every second a year. She sweated. She shook. Her body trembled in anticipation, fangs unfolding from the fleshy sheaths that kept them hidden in her mouth, thick at the base and hollow and tapering as thin as needles and hollow and empty.

She was immortal. Thirty seconds wasn’t supposed to feel like an eternity.

The end! Be back tomorrow for something new!

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