Worse Than Prison

Chapter Thirteen

Blood and Guts

A nightmare, Silence remembered.

He felt as if he had plunged himself off a cliff into a deep dark nightmare ridden sleep that had him writhing to escape. What was going on? Why wasn't anyone waking him up or saving him? Why couldn't he just join the inmates again?

He'd by far prefer it to the cold harsh reality of his nightmare.

He was alone.

There was no Jared. No Jericho. No Z or Megik or Tyler. He was completely alone in the streets of New York City, stumbling around with a blood caked shirt and the leather strap around his throat. His eyes drifted in alarm across the tall skyscrapers that reached up to the sky in a desperate attempt to escape the horror on the planet below.

The faint sounds of screams in the distance, the sky growling threateningly like the beasts that were darting in and out of buildings, completely ignoring him. They weren't attacking him, hardly passing a glance at them with wild, crazed eyes as they searched for the one thing that tormented them all.

Hunger.

The gnawing, agonizing ache of hunger tearing at the inside of their stomachs. The stench of rotting corpses and fresh blood that stained the streets red was maddening.

This is scary, Silence thought miserably as he stumbled to keep his balance on the balls of his feet now. He didn't like watching on flat feet, he didn't move fast enough. He came to an intersection in the road, pausing to look around him.

The sky thundered overhead, but no rain fell to clean away the bloodshed. Silence grimaced, turning around and around to find someone, anyone who could help, but the only ones that were in sight now were dead.

Dead or dying.

One man was sobbing, clawing at the asphalt and breaking his nails as blood pumped steadily from his torn gut. Silence tensed and slowly inched closer. The man wasn't old, maybe in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and eyes that were wildly looking around for a God.

There is no God. Silence thought dully as he approached the man and stood over him. His dark blue eyes were lazy as he watched the man flounder, gasping repeatedly for air and only letting out a low cry at the sight of the teenager hovering over him.

"Please...!" The man gasped, reaching a hand out. Silence froze at the gesture, withdrawing and the man wailed pitifully, forcing himself to roll on his side as blood oozed in a sea around him.

"Please, help me...! Please!" He cried out desperately. Silence took another jolting step back, debating whether to assist this man or not. The blood was heavy in the air. It was driving his senses wild. His stomach screamed with hunger, clawing at his insides to be fed.

And the only satisifying sight was the red.

So much deep dark red, flowing like a stream.

Mouth as dry as cotton, smothering him. Body anxious, jumpy, energetic despite the death that held the world in a vice grip. The thunder overhead and the refusal of the clouds to release some sort of comfort.

Food, Silence thought with a miserable moan, covering his face with his hands.

So hungry. So, so hungry. He needed something in his stomach.

Something, anything!

Without realizing it, Silence was inching forward and dropping to his knees, flashing his sharp teeth hungrily and the man gave another low cry of horror, trying to tear back, but death was already cradling him, preparing to walk off with his soul.