!!NSFW!!WARNING!!
Frankie stepped out of the Ford and surveyed the abandoned warehouse that crouched beside the docks like a rusted beast. Fog rolled between the broken pillars, thick and pale under the moonlight.
Clara leaned out of the passenger window, her voice sharp with unease. "You sure this place is safe? Didn't we drop another stiff here just a few days ago?"
Lou DeMarco climbed out from the backseat with Shmuel slung over his shoulder. "Relax. Officer Callahan gave us the green light. This whole patch belongs to his patrol."
Frankie lit a cigarette and exhaled slow. "Quit whining and check if the girl's still pure."
Clara laughed. "Why not check me instead? I'm still a virgin."
Lou rolled his eyes. "Yeah sure, and I'm Saint Francis of Assisi." Clara snorted and bent over the unconscious young girl in the backseat. "She's clean. Looks barely out of teenage years and untouched. Hard to find any pure ones among the refugees. We really struck gold tonight."
Frankie waved his cigarette. "Good. Lou, finish the old man quick." He stepped to the side, unzipped, and relieved himself against the wall.
Once he zipped up, his gaze slid lazily to Clara. The look on his face made her groan. "Seriously? Now?"
"Come on," Frankie muttered. "Before we get back to work."
He shouted toward the broken wall. "LOU, YOU DONE YET?"
"Stop shouting, why don't you come and do it?"
"NAAH, YOU ARE THE EXPERT! Enjoy the smell yourself."
"If you want to blow off steam, Clara's right here."
Clara yelled from the car. "I can't deal with two horny dogs tonight. That Lou is like a dog."
Frankie approached her with a grin. "Then help me out already."
Clara complained but stepped out of the car. He asked, "Why not use your mouth for once?"
She made a disgusted face. "Yuck. When was the last time you showered? Forget it."
Frankie ordered her to bend over the hood. She sighed, lifted her skirt, and braced herself. He thrust into her while she kept berating him to hurry up. "Tighten up, why you so lose bitch" he growled.
"Grow a bigger dick swine" she shot back.
He finished with a grunt. Clara straightened her clothes, muttering, "If Lou shows up looking for fun too, I'll kill both of you."
Frankie chuckled and promised her a fancy restaurant after the job. She snorted, "As long as I get paid and save enough money, I'm leaving this filthy life."
Frankie frowned toward the shadows. "What is that idiot doing? It's just an old man."
Clara shrugged. "Maybe that dog is venting on the codger."
"HEY LOU, STOP FUCKING THAT OLD MAN, CLARA IS WAITING WITH HER TITS OUT."
"Fuck you."
Frankie laughed, but there was no reply from Lou. He shouted again.
"Damn! Is that dog really doing it with that crippled old fuck."
Clara lit up a cigarette,"Go and check, we don't have all night here."
Frankie walked past the broken wall toward the septic tank where Lou was supposed to dump Shmuel.
The cigarette slipped from his lips.
Half a body lay twisted on the ground, the other half missing. A severed hand rested beside it like discarded trash.
Frankie swallowed hard and forced down a gag. He pulled out his revolver and edged closer. The mangled stump was unmistakable. Lou DeMarco was dead. Torn apart.
But how? Lou was built like a bull. And Frankie hadn't heard a single scream.
Gang trouble, he thought. Has to be one of those rival crews. Maybe the Montrellis finally decided to send a message.
Bastards clearly hiding somewhere, they needed to leave immediately and inform their boss.
Sweat beaded across his forehead as he backed away.
He reached the car, voice trembling. "Clara, get inside. Lou's dead. Probably those Montrelli bastards."
"What are you even talking about, why would they come here?"
"I DON'T KNOW! Stop asking questions, they chopped off Lou like a pig. Only those fuckers do some shit like that."
Clara panicked, fumbling with the door. Her gaze snapped toward Frankie.
He was pointing his gun at her.
"What the hell, Frankie?" she croaked.
But the gun wasn't aimed at her.
It was aimed at something standing behind her.
A wet, tearing sound sliced through the air. Like a soaked cloth ripping around a blade.
Clara looked down.
A hand was growing out of her chest. Claws soaked with her blood, oddly human but not.
She gasped. The pain hit hard, but before the scream got out of her throat, blood flooded her mouth.
The last thing she saw was Frankie firing repeatedly. She assumed one round hit her, but the pain never came. Darkness swallowed everything.
Ethan pulled his arm free from the middle-aged woman's chest. He had hoped to savor another heart, but the man was already shooting at him not caring about his dead team mate.
Huh, how fickle humans are in front of death.
Frankie scrambled to reload his revolver, hands shaking. Ethan waited calmly, almost curious, wanting to see every second of the man's panic.
Frankie finished, raised the gun, eyes blazing. Ethan's grin looked crooked and monstrous in the dim light.
Bang. The first bullet missed.
Bang. The second missed as well.
His hand trembled like someone with hypothermia on a winter night.
Frankie cursed wildly. "What the hell are you, you freak? Die already!"
He emptied the cylinder in a desperate flurry.
Ethan raised his arm to save his face. One of the shots ricocheted and struck the car window behind him.
He stepped forward and looked at the man. The scumbag who took advantage of starving refugees.
He slowly gripped the man's head and pulled it backward, the veins in his neck clearly visible to Ethan's eyes.
"Hehe, time to eat, let's pray for your soul to be a better man in the next life."
Ethan took his time this round, savoring each moment of flesh and terror. Baruch emerged from hiding with Shmuel slumped in his arms.
The scene was horrifying, Ethan was covered in blood everywhere.
"Ethan? Man, you are still Ethan right?"
Ethan growled at him. Baruch froze in terror until Ethan burst into laughter. Baruch let out a nervous chuckle.
But their laughter stopped.
A muffled sound came from inside the car.
Ethan ripped open the door and froze.
Talia lay there, blood everywhere. A jagged shard of glass from the shattered window had lodged deep in her neck.
How? Ethan thought back. He left her in the car for safety, how did this happen?
The ricochet. The bullet he ignored. The window. And Talia, bound, helpless in the backseat.
The shard had gone straight into her throat.
Baruch reached to pull it out, but Ethan grabbed his wrist. "Get Shmuel to the camp. Take the car."
"Huh! But I do not know how to drive."
"Figure it out, I am faster on my feet."
Ethan lifted Talia and sprinted toward the makeshift hospital he remembered seeing near the refugee settlement. He tried his best to not move Talia's body too much.
Finally, after sprinting at break neck speed, he finally saw the big tent with a white cross.
He burst through the door, but almost everyone was half asleep. He went to the woman who looked like a nurse and jolted her awake.
"Hey! Do you know the doctor?"
The girl almost screamed looking at two blood soaked people.
"I.. I will find the doctor." She ran off outside. Other people also woke up hearing the commotion and helped Ethan to find a clean bed to lay down Talia.
After some time a man with a small tin box came running, Ethan pointed him to Talia.
"Oh my God! How did this happen? Sister Halen, please bring some disinfecting alcohol."
The doctor removed the shard and sutured the wound, but his face darkened. Talia was overdosed on drugs, already lost too much blood and her body was failing.
"I have done everything, but we do not have blood bags here, we will have to find someone to transfuse blood."
But where would they find blood? Her only relative Shmuel was also not in a position to donate blood.
In desperation, Ethan sliced open his palm and let his blood drip into her wound. The micro-organisms. The last gamble he could make.
All he could do now was wait.
Morning light was spilling into the room when Baruch arrived with Shmuel. The old man, still drugged and hallucinating, recognized Talia and collapsed in grief.
In the chaos, his trembling hands slipped and pulled away the bandage around her neck.
The wound was gone. Completely. Her skin looked smoother than before, almost new.
Baruch stared at Ethan. "How… how did you do this?"
Ethan said nothing. His mind raced in panic. Would she remain human? Or become another mindless experimental creature like the others? One of his failures. A zombie.
A different doctor entered the room, thankfully not the one from the night before. Ethan lied smoothly, saying Talia just collapsed from exhaustion after a long journey.
The doctor looked suspiciously at the blood marks everywhere, but ignored as there were many people already lining up for him.
The doctor checked her pulse. "She seems stable. A bit slow, probably malnutrition. Take her home and feed her properly."
Ethan lifted Talia gently.
Baruch followed him out of the hospital, silent and shaken.