Rot

by James Hancock

(This story was originally published in the short story collection Twisted Midnight, available here.)

If anyone finds this, what the fuck happened? I mean… wow! I’ll keep my voice down because I can hear a few of them bumping around upstairs. One of them got in here with me, but I dealt with her. I’m locked in now. Door bolted and barricaded. Finally calming down after an insane brush with death. I thought I was a goner.

I’ve got this old tape recorder, but only one tape and no idea how long the batteries will last. If I’m careful, and only record every few days, it might work the whole time I’m down here. Hopefully, that won’t be too long.

I’ve decided to call the dead girl Veronica. She needs a name, as we’ve been roommates for a couple of days. The sudden addition I wasn’t expecting.

Before things went the way they did, I’d stocked the basement as best I could. I have enough supplies to last for weeks, a few months if I’m careful, so the only foreseeable problem is my unplanned guest. The stench of a corpse is something I hadn’t accounted for, and there’s no time or way to research how to deal with it. I’ll have to learn the hard way. At least things are quiet again. No more banging and smashing up whatever’s left of my house. They must have given up and moved on.

After six days of telling my life story, Veronica’s white eyes have leaked and shrivelled. Her hair was already a faded blonde, but in the dim light, it now shines silver. My guess is Veronica had passed a week before she tried to eat me. Before I ended her with a knife in the temple. ‘Full force and bury it deep’, that’s what the bulletin had said; the final words before the world went offline.

The open wound and visible bone on her left arm tell me where she bought it. Why she turned. She must have been one of the early ones. I thank my lucky stars she wasn’t fresh; leaking body fluid and bloating had already passed before we found each other. Before she came at me, lunging and screaming.

Her flesh has moved into advanced decay over our days together, turning the green/grey rot into a reddish dry leather. It suits her more. A big improvement.

Two weeks of boredom. I wish I’d brought a guitar. Like everyone else, I had very little time to prepare. It went from ‘is there a problem?’ to ‘how close is the problem?’ to ‘holy shit!’. Everything happened so fast. I can’t complain. I did better than most.

I thought Veronica’s smell would ease up a little. How wrong I was. It penetrates the shirt tied around my face, so I’ve given up with that discomfort. Fortunately, the smell from my faeces mound in the corner of the basement near the waste bucket has taken over.

Whilst chatting, I mentioned the rotting egg and bitter fruit combination of air I’m breathing, and that made Veronica smile. She always smiles. Her lips have thinned and split, pulled back to a hole where a nose used to sit. I’ll say this for her, she looked after her teeth. If I had been bitten by one of them, I’d want it to be Veronica.

Food, water, bedding, a battery lantern; all sensible items, and I’m glad of them. Things I should have added when preparing for the worst but didn’t: a radio, spare batteries, stuff to read, Twister. She’d have loved a game of Twister. What was I thinking?

Thankfully, Veronica is a good listener. I can talk about anything.

It’s amazing how much we have in common. We like the same music, share the same sense of humour, and both agree on important family values. Of all the people I could be stuck with, I came up trumps. I’m a lucky guy.

Hours feel like days and days like months. If I was alone, I’d have gone mad by now. I used the sharp edge from a corned beef tin and scratched a little poem into the wall. I think Veronica likes it. I know she does.

Has it been a month already?

My pretty girl, my pretty girl.

I feel we’ve known each other always,

My pretty girl, my pretty girl.

If they come,

They surely will,

I’ll hold you close and drive them back.

You are mine, you are mine.

Pretty girl.

I decided to cut Veronica’s arm off. Her jaw clicked and there was a crack from her spine as I prepped for surgery. I tried to lift her slumped head so I could see her face better, but three teeth fell out, so I carefully leaned her back against the wall. I made a pillow for her out of my backpack filled with empty food packets.

She looks beautiful. Rested. But that arm was ugly and needed to go. I cut and twisted it at the elbow, and Veronica is pleased with the result. We both are. Isn’t that right, baby?

It’s two months. Maybe more. Things are a little unclear as I’ve been passing out a lot and having terrible cramps. I think it’s a urine infection and maybe some kind of stomach bug. Veronica is worried. She keeps reminding me to drink plenty of fluids after I’m sick. Unfortunately, there’s not much water left, but Veronica said I can drink my own urine if needs be. It’s nice having someone to look out for me.

Her cheeks are cold and her skin so thin. I am delicate and kiss them respectfully.

She placed her hand on mine, and I felt a connection like never before.

I’ll whisper so she can’t hear. I think she’s the one. Is it too soon? Am I reading more into this than I should? I don’t care. I’ve nothing to lose. I’m going to pop the question.

Me again.

We have an announcement. She said yes! We’re so happy.

We couldn’t wait and do things the right way, the way I’d been brought up, because… because the passion was there. What can I say? I like to give her what she wants. We made it work. Funny, I wasn’t sure because I’m the one who keeps getting headaches, but she led the way and it felt right. Natural. Her head came off during, but we had a bit of a laugh about that, and I sat it on the floor nearby. She was still able to see everything. She assured me it was okay. Better even. My girl is the best.

I wrote a song.

Water’s gone, but I don’t care,

I thread my teeth within your hair.

Veronica. Veronica.

When I fall down, you comfort me.

With failing eyes, you help me see.

Veronica. Veronica.

My wife,

My life,

My shining light.

Veronica.

Even with my blindness and fatigue, you stay by my side. Loyal. Dependable. I don’t know what I’d do without you, baby. My heart races for you. I feel it hammering in my chest.

I’m taking a break from recording for a bit. Things are… difficult.

I can’t find you. Where are you?

My chest hurts and the whistle head pain burns my brain.

Who am I talking to? I can still smell my lovely. My lovely… I… I know your name. Tell it to me. Come back! Please. I breathe hard. My wife! My life!

I struggle.

Tired. Need to sleep now.

If you can hear me…

I love you.