Bite

It's Just Meat

I knew if I could get close enough, and give them one bite each, they'd change their minds about shooting me. We'd all be on equal ground and I'd like to see them thinking about shooting each other once we were all feeling the exact same way. After biting them—I had a good idea. I still wanted Hailey out of the group, but it wasn't fair to like, you know, kick her out into the wild and crazy world.

I could just eat her, and that would solve all the problems. It's like getting rid of the evidence, evidence of my mistake. Better from me than some stranger outside our little fortress. Zombies couldn't get in here, and it's not fair for her to get voted off the island and get zombified out there. I'd just make a few quick bites, in the neck would probably do it—and then we'd be free to do whatever we want. Then I realized everyone would probably want their share, and—well, they can fight over her body if they want. I don't care.

Rayford cocked and aimed the gun for my chest. Rayford—seriously! Can't you use rationale? I am the most calm, rational person here.

Suddenly, Pedro pulled his gun from the back of his jeans, and without aiming, shot me in the heart. I was shocked by the impact of the gun. My chest turned a little, embracing the pressure of the bullet, making it's home inside of me—where, I noted, it was TERRIBLY UNINVITED.

This was not how this evening was supposed to go. He just ruined my night.

"You hesitated," he said to Rayford, cocking his gun a second time. "Are you going to shoot her in the head, or should I?"

I had stopped, swaying on the spot. Let them deliberate. I'll wait. It will not change the reality of the fact that they're just being incredibly thick headed and stupid!

"I'll do it," Wayne suddenly said, shoving between the two men. "Close your eyes, Davey."

Dave obediently turned towards the wall, where Helen wrapped her big arms around his head, protectively. God, what's with all the FUSS?

He came right up to me, within biting distance. Perfect. If only my broken ankle would let me leap up high enough to get a grip of the neck. Of course, though, if I couldn't reach, his wrist—or his ankle—that would do the trick. Then he'd be on my side and I expect Davey would soon follow.

He put his gun against my temple. I stared up at him, wondering if he found me attractive at all. What if he bit me, instead? That could be sort of romantic.

He cocked the gun.

Wait, my survival instinct flared, and I realized I was in danger. He's not going to kill me, is he? He's not a murderer—and yet—why—

It slowly came to a fully fleshed realization, like the dawn rising in the east. I realized what was happening—the real problem—

The real problem wasn't me. It was them. The people whom I had mistakenly thought were my friends, partners at the end of the world. The ones that were supposed to be there for me were actually too dumb to know how to be there for someone.

It was the fact that these big, block-headed people—the people in charge, the people with guns—they didn't have a smart, intelligent bone in their body.

Just meat. That is all they were. Just meat suits with people in them.

They didn't understand me. I'd never understand them.

That's what separates us.

I was the only one in the room with any brains.

Brains.

Brains.

Brains

Brains

Brains