COMPENDIUM 2020 - STORY 9: DEATH WARDEN


DEATH WARDEN

Compendium 2020 – Story 9

By Andrew Hawnt

I can hear him out there on the other side of the glass, but he can't hear me. He can't even see me properly. How to I seem to the warden? A vague shape of a person behind thick reinforced glass, my hands against it as he does his tests.

I must be dark to him. A silhouette drawn by the light of my cell against the dull, ridged green glass of my enclosure's view station. Does the warden see me as a person, or just a specimen?

I'm real,” I try to say. The sound that escapes my lips is more of a moan. “Let me out.”

He can't understand the wails and grunts that come out of me. To him I'm just a dead thing in a box, being watched by cameras, being tested by devices I don't know the names of.

I'm trapped in this cell, but more than that, I'm trapped inside myself. We all are. This cell is one of many. There are rows of these cells. Hundreds of us in this block alone, and nobody knows that our minds are still alive inside these decaying, flesh-eating corpses that shuffle to and fro within their tiny rooms.

The warden has moved on. The tests must be complete. My body moans and craves human skin. It wants to tear at limbs and suck the jelly from eyeballs. It wants to crack through the skull to get to the quivering brain meat. It wants to douse the raging, endless fire of undead hunger with the blood of the living.

It's hard to make friends when you want to eat them, I guess.

The hunger in my belly burns. The craving is making my drooping mouth salivate. I was beautiful when I was alive. I'm sure I was. I was athletic and toned and never short of a lover. Now I shuffle and groan and watch my skin flake away as my body continues to decompose.

I am trapped in my cell with my thoughts and a rancid, rotting countenance.

I can't take it any more. I want to be out there. With the people. I want to see them again. To be around their warmth and their voices and their sex and their problems and their desperate dreams of better days.

There aren't any better days, though. Not now. Not since the dead got back up and started to infect the living with their pestilence.

I throw myself at the green window, slivers of grey meat dangling from my hands as I thrash them against the glass, screaming inside and bellowing outside. I can't be this thing any more. Let me out. Let me out so you can shoot me in the head. Destroy the brain and let me rest. I beg you.

The warden returns, and I rage harder against the glass. My body gnaws at the ridges in it, and a tooth comes loose, clattering away beneath me. Let me out. Kill me. Let me die again, damn you.

But the warden doesn't lift his instruments to the interface outside the cell. Not this time. He raises a hand to meet mine against the glass. His other hand reaches to the interface and works it. My cell is suddenly filled with alarms. Poisonous gas seeps from vents around me but has no effect. My lungs burn, but that pain feels like life.

The glass shakes, there is a heavy mechanical sound and the thick veil between me and the corridor lifts away, moving into a hidden alcove above the cell entrance.

I let out a sob of shock and delight. My body responds by emitting a wordless howl.

The warden is dead. His skin is grey and green. He is missing an eye. I think of the wasted jelly it had contained. Dried blood has turned his grey overalls a filthy brown. Beyond him I see others being freed. They howl and scream and gibber as they stagger and shuffle out to join the undead caretakers of this place. Clearly, security was not as perfect as had been thought.

The warden leads me down the crowded corridor and to the circular hall at the centre of the complex. Screams rise from its core. Screams from the few left alive.

The carcasses being feasted on by my rotting brothers and sisters are not screaming any more. The warden leads me towards the loudest of the screaming people.

My hunger does burn so. It is time to quell those flames.

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© Andrew Hawnt 2020

About Compendium 2020:

Compendium 2020 is a project from author Andrew Hawnt and consists of 52 weekly stories encompassing science fiction, fantasy and horror. They are a mix of short stories and flash fiction, 100% original and written throughout 2020. Why is he doing this? To keep the words flowing. To keep the ideas coming. To dance in worlds that are his and his alone. To prove that he can.

About Andrew Hawnt:

You can find Andrew on Facebook at facebook.com/andrewhawntauthor and on Twitter and Instagram as @andrewhawnt. Formerly a musician and DJ, Andrew is known for his books, comic book writing, music journalism and more, including fiction in Doctor Who Adventures, the Judge Dredd Megazine and others. Look out for his film work soon.




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