The Undead Walk of Shame

Bottles clang against each other in the distance. The stench of liquor burns my nose. I open my eyes to see the legs of tables and chairs, some turned over. My body feels stiff as I assess my position on the floor. Head turned to the side, cheek to tiled ground, hips raised with my legs resting twisted across my body, torso raised.

Why am I lying like this?

A grunt leaves me as I rock my body, attempting to move. My torso slams into the tile, coughs following shortly after. I force my arms to move, left hand slapping on the floor, then the right. Another grunt rips through me when I lift myself.

An attempt to clear my throat makes me stop.

Why do I sound this way?

As I stand to my full height, I teeter to one side, then the other. I feel like I’m being pulled down by my arms, them rocking me side to side, leaning me forward.

Come on, Lana, we have to go.

I look around the room seeing bottles, cups, and spills strewn about, all forgotten. A few bodies lay on the ground, the positions showing the ending to their fight. I try to remember anything but am distracted by the red blur surrounding my vision. With immense effort, my arm swings up to rub my eye, but just hits my socket instead. I roar again.

Why do I sound like that?

My voice does not compare to whatever sound is coming from me. My voice is raspy for sure, especially after a night of drinking-

Drinking!

Last night, I was drinking here at this bar. Lights were flashing, everyone was dancing, I was drunk out of my mind. The longer I try to recall, the harder it becomes to remember. I stumble keeping my body up, my chest still leans forward slightly.

Lana, leave.

The stumbling is becoming easier now that I’m learning where to brace myself for each step. The path to the front doors still seems to take forever. I run into table after table, but finally I make it to those large wooden double doors.

I swing my arm and it thumps against the door in front of me. As the outside reveals itself to me, I stare at my arm.

The skin, my skin, it’s… decayed. Gray and bloody, light revealed my forearm has a chunk missing, bites along the rest of my limb.

Why do I not feel this?

Why does the voice in my head sound muffled... far away?

I quickly shuffle outside, my body hitting the door frame multiple times.

I shouldn’t feel this hungover.

Another roar cloaked with a savageness that shouldn’t belong to me tears through the air, the sun blinding me. My skull pounds as I yell and yell.

I need to see myself.

I shuffle to the many windows that line the bar's storefront.

Standing here is not the usual tall woman with soft, deep brown skin, eyes full of hope. Here is not the woman who woke up yesterday and cried all day before putting on a short satin plum dress, searching for an escape in music and drinks.

Standing here, I feel my head pound trying to register what I’m looking at.

Is this me?

This… thing that’s leaning forward, wide stance, skin gray and decaying? This thing that’s swaying while it stands, arms swinging slightly left and right?

That can’t be right. Its jaw is slightly hanging.

My jaw is hanging. I tell myself to close it, but it just won’t.

I watch as its chest, my chest, speeds up, a growl rumbling from me.

I look around, my body quickly following the direction of my eyes.

I begin to stumble forward. The need to keep moving is compelling my body, but I can’t seem to fight it. An instinct pulls me forward, my feet stomping, grunts heaving.

I’m so hungry.

As I make my way down the street, others with the same infliction are seen also struggling their way around. There are bodies on the ground everywhere. Whether they are alive or like me, I can’t tell. I want to look at them closer, but I keep moving forward down the street.

I pass a man with a tall slender build walking into a wall repeatedly when I hear a noise coming from a building next to me. My body stops and I wait.

I want to try to go home, but my body will not move. My head drops to look at my feet.

Come on, get moving, Anna.

They are not budging.

Why is this happening?

And why does it feel like trudging through snow to think?

The sound of metal screeching pulls my attention. It’s from inside the store right next to me.

I want to leave. My body is not listening to me. The voice in my head is getting harder to hear by the minute. My head itself is hurting. I don’t know what kind of nightmare I’m having, but I need it to stop.

I’ll never touch alcohol again if this will end soon.

Out runs a man from the restaurant doors. He skids on the cement, freezing once he spots me.

He was a head shorter than me, even with me leaning the way I am. He seems to sweat more the longer we stare at each other. A low rumble rolls through my chest. I can’t feel my jaw hanging, but can feel the drool pooling in my mouth, creating streams to the ground.

I’m so damn hungry.

Wait, what am I saying? I need to remember who I am.

I am… Hannah? For some reason, I feel unsure. Is Hannah it?

My breath quickens.

How can I not remember my name?

And how could this man be causing me to feel more hunger than I’ve ever felt? I’m pretty sure I’ve done fasting before and that hunger does not compare to this moment.

The man lifts one of his legs, slowly backing away.

I track each movement he makes.

He continues his slow retreat, and I stay in my spot, waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I have no choice but to.

I let him go one step then another, then another until he spins around to sprint away.

With a jolt running through my chest, I spring forward running with more fervor than I ever had since waking up.

This is what I was waiting for.

Grunts, snorts, screeches, and growls fight to release from me as I barrel down on the man with a newfound speed. I close the distance easily, tackling him to the ground, and gnashing my teeth, hoping to bite whatever I can.

He held me at bay, his arms locked to keep distance between us. With a rush of strength and a sound that came from the deepest parts of my chest, I surged forward desperate to make contact.

The most divine flavor explodes in my mouth. My teeth gnash with a new sense of purpose. Another bite from his bicep caused my limbs to lock, the richness momentarily stunning me. He ceases the opportunity and pushes me to the side, my head hitting the ground with a smack.

Growls continue to leave me on their own as I scramble back up onto my feet. More sounds of warning fill the space between us, stuck with another stare down.

He stands still and I, with him. His arms are braced on both sides, ready to attack despite the blood streaming down his right arm. His fingers twitch. My hunger grows at the sight of it.

I begin to yell my final screech before the kill, but it is cut short with a bullet going through my throat. I gurgle. I claw at my throat and chest for any reprieve.

Another shot to the knee makes me collapse onto the ground.

One hand continued to claw at my throat as the other reached for the man. Determination cloaks his face, but fear is also clear.

And it makes me so hungry.

I screech as he raises his gun, his eyes avoiding mine.

I’m so hung-.