Free Barely Alive by Bonnie R. Paulson

the yard.
    Heather was in my arms, biting my shirt, shaking, spasms claiming her limbs.
    The animals had moved against the far wall, whites of their eyes clear as they rolled in fear.
    Sweet, heady, yet subtle, the scent of her blood consumed me. I leaned in to her hair and sniffed softly. She froze. Certain I was about to eat her.
    Let’s face it, I was certain I was going to, too.
    But I closed my eyes, pushed her from me, and said as quiet as I could, “Heather, I need to eat. Meat. Not you, but I need to eat and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.” I swallowed. “Face the wall, cover your ears, whatever you need to do to protect yourself from seeing this. Those animals are going down.” I waited a full second, two, three, four and – she nodded. I blew out the air I’d held while waiting for her answer.
    She pulled from me and shoved her face into the corner and plugged her ears with her fingers. A strange humming sound followed, like she sang to herself.
    I’d already turned toward the animals. Saliva coated my tongue. Odd how I’d never noticed the faint licorice taste. I slid my shirt off over my head. Things were about to get messy.
    The cow would have to go first. I needed fat and the thing was huge. I’d hit up a pig next.
    I moved faster than any predator they recognized. I broke the cow’s neck. He collapsed to the ground. I tore into his side with a ferocity I hadn’t recognized in myself. The texture, heat, coppery salt, and moisture heightened my senses. I ate and ate. And ate. Oh, my hell, I ate some more. And more. And more. And hell, more.
    Cow gone. Hide, bones, and organs – oops, not the spleen, liver, or heart – but the rest of them discarded in a massive lake of blood.
    The slight satiety consoled me. How had I gone so long without food? The pig squealed. Oh, I would love some bacon, thank you. My arms swelled. The muscles in my legs and back had been strengthened. I needed more.
    This little piggy cried whee-whee-whee . I sighed. Yum. Why the hell would someone cook pork?

 
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
    Of the three pigs, I left only one standing. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to eat the little hot dog, but from the bangs on the front of the building, so did some others. I’d had more in those few minutes than I’d had in a while. I didn’t have to be a glutton. I shuddered at the thought of eating chicken. Fowl had never been on my list of favorites.
    Heather hadn’t uncovered her eyes, but she’d moved from the corner by the front door and stood on the line where the hay mingled with the cement – half in my world and half in hers.
    I wiped my mouth, but didn’t do any good with my arms covered in blood to the elbows. I crossed to a bucket of water by the cow remains and dipped my hands in to rinse as fast as I could. Like eating ribs at a local steakhouse. I splashed water on my face.
    Bam. Bam. Bam. More insistent. Multiple hands pounding. The smell of the blood must have permeated the wood of the building. Either that, or they had seen where we’d escaped after abandoning Dominic. Or it was Dominic on the other side.
    I hoped he tasted good – if he was delicious, then they wouldn’t stop eating him and I wouldn’t have to worry about him coming back.
    My refreshed blood sang in my ears. I couldn’t focus. Too many thoughts ran through my brain. Too many possibilities. Like hummingbirds in flight. Hm. Hummingbirds might taste good. But they’re kind of small —
    “ Can we get out of here?” Heather’s voice became my rock, a stable slab for me to anchor my thoughts to.
    I was seriously like a damn dog or something. Focus, Paul, you’re driving me nuts. But at least I didn’t want to eat her any more. Much.
    Standing, I spun in a slow circle while crossing toward Heather away from the carcasses on the floor. I grabbed my discarded shirt and tucked it in my back pocket. I’d finish air drying before pulling it on.
    My search revealed no windows, but a rake, three