Cannibals (Completed)

Cannibals - Part 1

I open my eyes.

There's nothing but the black sky behind the little window, and the only sound is the splashing of waves. I turn my head. Rick and Annie are asleep beside me. I feel an urge to put my hands on their chests to check their breathing, but I won't do it now. If they wake up, they'll cry again.

There are footsteps behind the door. Someone walks slowly, dragging his—or her—feet on the shabby carpet of the corridor. The sound stops nearby. A few weeks ago, it could have scared me, but things changed since then. I've seen things. I've done things that would have sickened me before, back when I was just a mother playing with her kids in her living room.

My fingers close around the knife, settling into the familiar grooves of the handle. My body tenses, ready for action. The feet behind the door shuffle for a few more steps, and then stop again.

I close my eyes and listen.

And listen.

###

Bad things just happen.

To get good stuff going, you need to work hard—but bad, it just knocks on your door. One moment, everything is all right, the next the world is upside down, and all you can do is try to adjust.

"Surrender!" they shout.

"Never!" I shout back, but the next moment they are all over me, and I slide to the floor under their combined weight.

Rick is small and easy to shrug off, but Annie is strong for her five years, and she puts up a fight. I feign resistance for a while, but eventually, I end up lying on the floor with both of them sitting on my back, jumping up and down as if riding a horse.

"Come on, guys," I mutter into the carpet, "Easy! It hurts!"

"Go on, horsy!" Annie yells. "Faster!"

"Faster!" goes Rick who firmly believes that everything his sister says is worth repeating. It takes me some time to brush them off.

"Let's call Daddy." I try to stand up. They cling to my feet, but eventually, I make it to the phone.

Daddy doesn't answer, which probably means he's stuck in the office again. I'm on my own until bedtime. The way things look, I won't make it alive.

"Let's watch cartoons." I press a button on the remote, but Annie snatches it from my hand and escapes into the kitchen, with Rick following her in a clumsy run.

"Cartoons!" I call out. "You like them!"

The screen lights up on what looks like a movie channel. It shows bloodied faces, people running on the streets, someone shooting a rifle—another zombie movie. I watch for a few seconds trying to recognize it, but I don't think I've seen this one.

"Give me the remote," I call out.

"Never!" comes the reply from the kitchen.

I look back at the screen. The same pictures seem to be going in a loop. The sound is too quiet for me to make out what's going on.

Then the number of the channel grabs my attention. Weird. It's not a movie channel at all.

It's a news channel.

The phone rings. I reach for it, keeping my eyes on the screen, not sure what to make of it.

"Hallo?"

"Did... you...out..."

Sounds like Mike, and he's in a place with bad reception.

"I can't hear you."

"Did you see the news?" Suddenly, he sounds very clear, and he's yelling: "Get them to the waterfront! Get them on some ship!"

"Get who?"

The picture on the screen switches to the studio, and a news anchor begins to speak. He looks upset.

"The kids! Don't you know anything?"

"Know what?"

"Zombies all over the town!" he shouts. "They spread! They attack people! Get the kids on some ship!"

"Zombies like in living dead zombies?" I say meekly.

"Get them out!" he shouts. "Take nothing, there's no time, just go now! I'll find you!"

"Shouldn't we wait for..." I begin, but then the phone is off. There's no signal, it's just completely dead.

I go and wrestle the remote out of Annie's hand, and come back to the television. She pouts, then joins me and asks questions, but I barely hear her.

It turns out to be some kind of epidemic. It started only hours ago, but it spreads quickly. Those who are sick attack those who are not. They kill them and eat them when they can, but those who escape with just a few bites become infected and start attacking others.

The residents are required to stay at home because the local airport and the port are overcrowded. Then they show images of bloodied people breaking down the doors of some house, and staying home suddenly doesn't look like a good idea.

It's a joke. It has to be.

But minutes later, we are on the street. I have a backpack with some random stuff I took from the kitchen—a few candy bars, a couple of knives and tuna cans. I'm not sure what a zombie defense kit should include, so I just grabbed what I could, and now I'm outside, holding Annie's and Rick's hands, and there are people everywhere, walking, running, moving towards the sea.

The feeling of unreal doesn't let go. My thoughts keep coming to that anecdote about how The War of the Worlds was read on the radio, and people thought it was real, and panicking crowds hit the streets. Maybe that's the case here, too. Some practical joke or a too-real-looking movie that got everyone confused.

Then I hear a scream and look across the street. And when I see what's happening there, the feeling of unreal falls off like a cuff, and I know it's not a joke.

As more screams rise to join the first one, I grab both kids and begin to run.