Car
They’d let the growling go on for way too long...
It was hot in the hatchback. It was the kind of heat that sends sweat streaming into your crack, the kind of heat that makes you breathless.
It was hot outside too. It was also quiet until the thing tied to the shop window a few metres away let out a reminder of its existence.
Inside, they moved with a timeless rhythm. They were engaged in a universal dance.
Outside, it moved with an endless hunger. It sniffed the air, getting increasingly restless as its favourite scent trickled out of the old car — humans. It existed now for a solitary purpose.
If you were inside the hatchback, you’d hear the familiar strains of Laura Branigan’s “Self Control”. You’d blush at the more familiar sounds of heavy breathing and gasping. You’d catch a moan here and a whisper there. You’d hear flesh on flesh. Your ears would pick up wet sounds.
If you were outside the hatchback, you’d hear the thing itself. You’d start at its growls at first. You’d keep a safe distance. But then, you’d realise it couldn’t harm you, being tied to the window like that.
The inside of the car was a sight to see — two glistening, pulsating bodies moving as one. Their hands and mouths explored each other: eager, trembling. You would have thought they’d never done this before. That wasn’t the case. They just hadn’t done this in a long time; they’d been prioritising surviving over living.
Outside the car, the thing tied to the shop window was also a sight to see. It had long hair, hanging down in dusty clumps. It had a once-pretty summer dress on. What was it? Purple? Grey? The thing was once pretty too. Its hair used to be the colour of fresh corn. People called it a lady. All that had changed. Now, its skin was torn in places. Blood marked a permanently ravenous mouth. One of its eye sockets sat dark and empty. A part of a fibula stuck out of one of its pale, dirty legs. It was missing teeth and a finger from one hand. The same finger on its left hand carried a gold band. The same hand was strung to the shop window.
Marc came before Leo did. He positively vibrated with pleasure. Leo followed some seconds later, letting out a startling groan and caving into the slippery-with-sweat vinyl seat. They sat naked and happy, catching their breath like two kids at the end of a thrilling session of cops and robbers.
That’s when the thing slammed against the window, sending Leo into Mark’s lap. It put one filthy hand and one bloody stump against the pane. Red streaks appeared on the glass as it growled and dragged its hands all over it.
Marc bent his head and peered out the windshield. The rope lay limp, one end now crimson, still attached to the rusted cast-iron grills. The thing’s hand — broken off at the wrist — was on the ground below, sitting ugly in a mess of blood, flesh, and bone.
It was loud now, growls filling the inside of the beat-up Chevy.
“Fuck! You’re that hungry, are ya?” Marc had to shout to be heard. “Okay, oka–”
Pink in his nakedness and excitement, Leo suddenly grabbed Marc’s knee. Marc’s gaze followed his.
Leo was shaking from the shag and the shock but was alert enough to catch the reflection in the cracked rear-view mirror. There must have been at least a dozen of them heading in the direction of the hatchback.
“Fuck.” Marc breathed again as Leo started to dress in a panic. They’d let the growling go on for way too long.
Marc glared one last time at the face against the window. Then, he reached over and grabbed something from the driver’s seat.
“Eat this, bitch.”
The hole in the window had stopped smoking by the time a still-wobbly Leo and a furious Marc appeared outside the car a few minutes later, fully clothed and armed with a kitchen knife and a shotgun, respectively. They stopped to stare at the blown-up brains of the 245th zombie they had killed.
The shot and the undead heading towards them had attracted more undead. Marc and Leo didn’t wait long. They had gotten their 245 kills over just 123 days. They weren’t staying to find out whether they could take on a whole town in a single afternoon.
Marc threw Leo over his shoulder and handed him the shotgun in one swift move. He then grabbed his lover’s fallen crutches, took the knife from him, and began to sprint in the opposite direction.
This is one that needs a part 2!
There are more twists and turns here than in a maze. Great work!