Page 3 of Wednesday
"Hmm?" it said, following my gaze with those reflective eyes. "Yes. He was quite delicious." Its jaw stretched into that horrific smile. "Your predecessor, as well."
My knees weakened. I pressed my palms harder against the wall to stay upright.
"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.
The creature eased closer. The smell hit me then. Wet earth and copper pennies mixed with the faint scent of rotting meat. I turned my face away, fighting the urge to vomit.
"That depends entirely on what you intend to do," it replied. "Run? Scream? Attack? All have been tried. None succeeded."
It moved and I watched it from the corner of my eye. It casually leaned on the wall beside me, close enough that I could see the texture of its mottled skin. Vaguely leathery and stretched over a frame of sharp bones. As I stared at its still chest, I realized the thing was not breathing.
"My name is Morrow," it said.
The incongruity of the monster introducing itself nearly pushed me over the edge into hysterical laughter. Itself? Himself? I bit my lower lip hard enough to taste blood.
Morrow's nostrils flared. His mouth opened slightly, needle teeth gleaming in the dim light. He leaned closer, inhaling again.
"You smell so alive," he murmured. "It has been... some time since I've tasted the living."
I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. I was going to die in this forgotten corner of the cemetery, torn apart by something that should not exist. I was not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
"Open your eyes."
I obeyed, finding his face inches from mine. His eyes were pits of absolute darkness.
"Why are you here?" Morrow asked.
"I had no other choice," I blurted. "I've been living in my car. This position came with housing. I didn't have anywhere else to go."
"Necessity," Morrow mused, drawing back slightly. "Yes, necessity drives us all to strange places."
He straightened abruptly, moving to crouch beside Lawrence Emmett's remains. One long-fingered hand brushed almost tenderly over the ravaged chest.
"I feed because I must," he said. "As all creatures do. The dead do not suffer from my hunger. They have already abandoned what I take."
I watched as he traced a blackened nail along the edge of the wound, scooping up some of the congealed blood. He brought it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to collect it.
"The newly dead are sweetest," Morrow continued conversationally as if we were discussing wine preferences. "Before decay claims them. Before the essence fully departs."
My stomach churned. I inched sideways along the wall toward the door, one small step at a time.
Morrow's head snapped toward me, faster than my eye could track. "If you run, I will follow," he said simply. "And I am very, very fast."
I froze.
"The sun rises soon," he observed, glancing toward the door.
Morrow rose to his full height, unfolding those too-long limbs until he towered over me again. "We have a decision to make, you and I."
"We?" My voice came out as barely more than a whisper.
"Yes. Whether you leave this place alive."
My heart lurched. "Please," I said. "I won't tell anyone. I'll quit. You'll never see me again."
"And go where?" Morrow asked, his head tilting again. "Back to your car? You said yourself you have nowhere else."
He was right. My bank account held less than thirty dollars. My phone was filled with unanswered messages from collection agencies. I had burned my last bridges getting to this job.
