My eyes open again, but the world looks different. Everything is shades of grey and red—so strange. Maybe the fever is affecting my ability to discern colour? It’s odd really; I don’t feel any pain anymore. My arm isn’t throbbing, my stomach isn’t gripped in twisting pain.
I hear a scream and my head snaps up, the sound amplified inside my head. People are looking at me in horror, something that doesn’t register with me completely—all I can see are the veins in their bodies pulsing. Hunger overwhelms me as I see the body of a woman stride toward me, her hand wielding a stick of some kind.
My hunger grows as I stand to meet her, the bus hitting a pothole, throwing her into my arms in the parody of a hug. My teeth sink into her neck, warmth flooding my mouth. She tastes so good! I draw my head back, crimson waves spewing forth. I drop my face back into the crook of her neck, greedily consuming her life as it flows freely from her body.
I feel her screaming, the sound of it barely registering in my ears in my haste to drink. Her head turns and the connection my mouth had made with her is broken. I’m thrown off balance as the bus pulls over to the curb, her body ripped rudely from my arms.
With the warmth gone, I look around for something else to eat, my hunger not satiated in the least. That’s when I see others, the looks on their faces full of rage. I rush at them, the oxygen left in my muscles allowing me to move faster than they expected, the surprise of my movement evident on their faces.
One of them raises his arm, a blade held tightly in his hand. He drives the blade down, coming into contact with my cooling flesh. I hear the muscles and tendons being sliced in my neck, feeling the weight of my head fall to the side. My body drops, my head hung askew from the rest of it, held on only by a thin strip of flesh. I can still see through my milky white-tinted eyes, my hunger strong and my mouth seeking something to satiate it. But my body won’t move, the link between my undead brain and it having been severed with the downward arc of that blade.
There’s nothing I can do at the moment except wait for a tasty morsel to come close enough to my waiting mouth. I have no idea how my hunger will ever be satisfied—with no stomach connected to my mouth, it will be impossible. I feel sadness, my brain finally letting the gravity of the situation sink in.
I’m dead, but I’m not. My mind has been awakened along with my body, the hunger for human flesh outweighing anything else.
I hear a shot but have no idea where it came from. The only thing I can see is the interior wall of the bus under one of the seats. I feel the bus shake slightly, but I can’t figure out why. There’s some shouting in the background but the hunger is overwhelming my brain. I need to eat. I want to eat. It’s like a phantom pain that consumes me.
The bus shakes again and my head shifts slightly. I can see the man as he walks down the aisle toward me, his ankles covered only by thin socks. His pant legs move as he walks, flashing the flesh of his legs for me. I see the pulsating veins, my hunger seeming to build even more. I see red and all I want is his blood, his flesh. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
He stands over me, his ankle tantalizingly close. I know he’s looking down at my broken form, wondering what the hell has happened. If only he’d get a little closer.
And then he does, my mouth sinking into the tender flesh. He tastes so good, it’s almost orgasmic. As I suck the blood from his body, chewing on the flesh I can tear away from the bone, he screams, falling to the floor next to me, putting him closer to my eager mouth.