Haunted Organic (2014 Watty Award Winner)

Four: Vanished

FOUR: Vanished

Josie couldn't sleep.

And he didn't want to. The nightmares were too much for him. He had no idea what he would see next, how it would change him, or from where the eels would come.

So, he stayed awake, watching zombie movies in the living room, his feet hanging over the end of the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He drank Coke to stay awake.

His plan was to never fall asleep at night again. He imagined he'd find some quiet in school, like the P.E. laundry room or the class they used for detention. No one went in those places except jocks and delinquents, and only after school.

He would stay awake all night and sleep most of the day there. That was the plan.

But he didn't feel well. His head was killing him. His thoughts were murky. He felt sad, like a black shroud had been thrown over him, dragging him down, making him feel bleak and depressed. He did everything he could to move himself out of this feeling, but it was like a helmet.

Nothing helped.

And then, he heard the crash, a window breaking. It wasn't his room, he knew that. It was farther out, maybe the Organic Food Store. Something was happening. He smelled the stink of seaweed. A hiss, like a snake really, but he knew they were the sound of eels, moving toward their prey. He heard their jaws snapping open and closed.

They were near.

He tried to clear his mind.

"The nightmare," he thought.

He was sure he must be asleep. Except he wasn't. He pinched the skin on his arm until the pain seized him.

Yes, he was awake. He could see everything, feel everything. This was no dream.

Bangkok was near.

The monster was hungry. And not just hungry, but starving, willing to do anything to eat. Josie felt it as if it were his own hunger. He was overcome. He stumbled to the kitchen, threw open the freezer door and began tearing open boxes. He shoveled frozen food in his mouth. He didn't care that the food was hard, cold, tasteless. He didn't care that half of what he was stuffing in his mouth was cardboard.

He had to feed the hunger.

After he cleaned out the freezer, he moved to the cupboards - cereal, chips, anything he could find and shovel them into his mouth. He had never been this hungry, ever. It was bigger than him. He grabbed a steak, raw from the fridge and tore at it with his teeth, pushing big chunks of it down his throat, biting, tearing, chewing, blood running down his face.

A small, faraway, muted piece of him knew something bad was happening, that he should try to stop himself, but the hunger was too powerful, his head was a murky ocean of nothing. All his logic was submerged there.

He found himself on the floor of his kitchen, his face smeared with steak blood, cupboard doors flung open, boxes and bottles torn open, eaten, the floor smeared in tomato sauce, mustard, pickles. His hair dripped with mayonnaise and strawberry jam. His face was smeared with vegemite. There were carrots stuck into his t-shirt. He found a slab of raw beef in his lap.

Wasn't that a roast his mother was marinating just yesterday for Sunday lunch?

Then, something changed. He felt his brain shift. Felt the murkiness leave him a little.

Bangkok.

The monster was on the move. Not close anymore, but moving off into the distance. He was relieved at first, happy to not feel the monster bearing down on him, taking over his body, forcing him, pushing him.