Decay of Desire

Section 1

   The wind rustled softly in the leaves above me, a cool breeze to better my temperament. Funny, I didn't think there would be a stiff breeze in hell. Oh wait, I wasn't dead. That came as a shock to me, that I was still alive and sentient. I placed my hand above my heart, only to feel a rough substance. I gasped as my eyes shot open. Unfortunately, the sun was in full blazing glory above my head, and my eyes had small time to adapt to the harsh light. It took me a few minutes to get rid of the sun spots, but I could finally see clearly. What I saw wasn't welcoming at all.

The small beach in front of me looked like a massacre had taken place upon it. And strangely enough, after scrutinizing, I concluded a massacre HAD taken place. Genocide of some sort, rotting remains of bodies were strewn and buried. Deciding to focus on myself for the moment, I noticed I was wearing a crudely made leather chestpiece, with a utility belt around my waist containing a small water canister and an old busted radio. I took a moment to laugh and think how comical I looked, like some kind of old age pirate bandoleer. Something large caught the corner of my eye. Turning, I recognized the remnants of a beached sailing ship. What was once my ship, I recalled. Quickly, I rushed over the ruined hull and crawled inside, only to drop to my knees in pain. I hadn't been shot or anything; it was a much deeper pain. Inside, my complete sailing crew lay slaughtered, their rotting husks carelessly tossed about. The smell of death permeated the ship, yet I couldn't even comprehend that, I was so racked with grief. This wasn't just my crew, these were people I had grown up with, had known for years. We were a tight knit alliance of brothers, well we used to be. I sat on the floor beside my dead comrades and silently sobbed. A sound from deeper in the hull broke my stupor, something resembling a grumble and a howl blended together. Surprised, and slightly hopeful, I sprang up to investigate where it had originated from. I stumbled across a person, trapped under a rafter beam, which was producing the noise. I didn't recognize him immediately, but I soon realized the trapped man was Jerry, one of my crew members. "Jerry," I tried to converse while shifting the beam, "Jerry what happened to you?" He was unresponsive to everything I said, just making incoherent noises. With one final heave, I shoved the rafter, and it gave one final resounding crash as it shuddered to a rest. Kneeling, I helped him up, noticing for the first time how sickly he looked. Grasping his arm, I led him outside to the shoreline. As soon as we struck the sand, he leapt for me, a guttural cry rising from deep within him. Startled, I staggered backwards frantically trying to regain my footing. What the hell was wrong with him? "Jerry, it's me. Your ship captain, Evan. Look, I know you must have been trapped under there for awhile, but why are you like this?" As I spoke, he lurched towards me, fixing me with a dull glaze in his eyes. I didn't know what to do, Jerry seemed hostile, but I didn't want to hurt him. Maybe he was just in a daze. Then, he stopped moving, and hunched over. I slowly crept towards him; maybe he was coming out of his fit. Just when I reached him, he sprung forward, tackling me to the ground. Thrusting his hands towards my face, he tried to bite me, all the while grunting and moaning. I began kicking him, and squirmed my way free from his clutches. There was no doubt in my mind anymore; Jerry would kill me. I frantically looked around for some defensive tool I could use. I spied a moderately sized driftwood chunk in the sand. It was almost in the shape of a rectangle, with a flat top and a more narrow side I used for a handle. I was prepared this time when Jerry came for me. He lunged again, and I swung as hard as I could. A sharp crack met my ears, and I watched in horror as the board ripped his arm completely off and spun him around. His detached limb hit the sand and rolled, but there was no blood from it or the receptacle where it once was. Jerry didn't seem to take into account that it even happened, as he renewed his pursuit of me oncemore. What was I dealing with? "Jerry," I cried out, "I'm so sorry! I don't want to hurt you. Why are you trying to eat me? Please! Just say something. Anything." No recognition flared in his eyes as he attacked again. I couldn't do this. I couldn't kill someone I had known the majority of my life. Yet I had to. Either I killed him, or he ate me. There was no medium involved. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and forced myself to focus on him. I waited until he was close, and then struck him against the head. He careened sideways, and I made myself strike him again, this time across his ribs. The sound of his bones cracking made me sick, but I knew I had to finish this. I raised the plank high above my head, heaved a large breath of air, and brought it down upon his skull without hesitation. Jerry's hand slammed into the sand, and I used the driftwood to beat him until I couldn't any longer. Throwing the stick, I fell to the ground beside the now still body and wept. I had just killed someone, a family member no less. I really did it. I crawled to the water and drank, but the salty water just made me retch. I cried until I became numb to the strong notion of guilt within me. After many long hours, I rose and grabbed the board I'd killed Jerry with. Using the flat end, I dug a large hole in the ground for Jerry and the rest of my crew. Tears streaked my face as I hauled them to their final destination. I couldn't bear to look at them as I shoveled sand over their remains. Smoothing the sand out over where they lay, I bowed my head and blessed them all. "Family we were, rest easy," I whispered, before turning away from all I cared about and walking away.