The Taste of Garlic - Writing Battle short story

Hey all! It’s that time again, another Writing Battle completed, another short story to share. This time around I received the prompts ‘Vampire Romance’, ‘Garbage Dump’, and ‘Loner’. Not my usual bag. Vampire romance may not have been my first choice of genre, but I think I put my unique, horror-focused twist on it. Results haven’t been posted yet, so I’ll let you know if anything juicy comes up.

In other news, I’ll be at FantaSciiCon in December! It’s a new convention, celebrating all things Fantasy and Science fiction. There’ll be writers, artists, and makers from all walks of life. I’ll be one of the many local authors setting up a stall, so feel free to come on down and say hi. Don’t forget to bring your copy of The Whispering Depths or The Road to Ithaca to get them signed! You can find tickets at their website, here.

But, with all the announcements out of the way, let’s dive right into the short story!

The Taste of Garlic

My boot catches on something in the wreckage, sending it tumbling through the remains of what used to be a city.

The noise shatters the silence, and I drop to my hands and knees, scurrying as quietly as I can through the rubble and the junk. I find a destroyed kitchen, one of the adjacent buildings must have collapsed on it after the catastrophe, and I press my back against the cabinets.

I curse myself for making that much noise. Out here, mistakes like that get you killed. I’m better than that. Hunger must be kicking in.

I wait, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m sure that at any point they’ll descend, swoop down and snatch me from the wreckage, but a minute passes. Two, three, then four.

Nothing happens.

I’m alive.

I release a breath and stand from behind my cover. I approach the trash I’d kicked, and see a can lying at my feet. My eyes widen, and my stomach growls as I pluck it from the dirt. I wipe it clean, turning it over in my hands.

It’s unopened, slightly dented, but otherwise pristine. The label has long since worn away, but I already know what’s inside: calories. That’s all that counts.

Before I can pry it open, I hear a shuffle in the rubble behind the counter.

I drop again, pulling the crossbow from the sling behind my back, and pressing myself behind the trashed counter.

I say nothing, but hold my shot, ready for whatever might emerge from the junkpile that used to be someone’s home.

A man stumbles from the trash heap, catching his foot on a destroyed fridge and tripping into the kitchen.

He hasn’t seen me, or at least doesn’t show any signs of recognition. He stands and dusts himself off.

He looks up. Our eyes lock.

Then his eyes turn down, to the wooden bolt aimed dead at his heart.

“Woah,” he stammers, raising his hands and backing away. “Easy. I’m not one of them.”

“But if you were one of them, you’d say the same thing,” I say. “So clearly I can’t trust that statement.”

“P—please!” he says, wincing away from the end of my crossbow. I track him as he moves, like the laser-guided systems the army used to use, before the world died.

With one hand, I unzip a pocket, rummaging inside until my fingers find the small bottle of garlic pills. I pop the lid, and toss one on the ground at the man’s feet.

“Prove it,” I say. “Eat it. Chew it around a bit. I want to hear it crunch.”

He does as I say, biting half the tablet, and chewing loudly before swallowing the rest. He holds open his mouth, showing me he’d eaten it all.

“Alright, then,” I say, crossbow still pointed. “So, you’re not a vampire. People are just as dangerous, around here.”

“But… But I… I mean you no harm,” he finally spits out. “Please… We’ll survive longer if we cooperate. See?” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bag of beef jerky. He tosses it, and it lands in the dirt beside me.

I want so desperately to tell him to turn around. To start walking, and keep going until his knees give out, but my hunger takes over. And besides, he looks harmless enough.

I grab the bag and start shovelling jerky into my mouth. God, it’s been so long since I’ve eaten real meat. I tear the tough strips with my teeth, and taste the salt and pepper seasoning.

“I have more,” I hear him say, and he pulls a small bar of dark chocolate from his bag.

I almost cry as I break off a piece, leaving it in my mouth and allowing it to melt slowly, savouring every second of the bitter sweetness.

“I suppose you can stay,” I say, slinging the crossbow. I only now look at him entirely. He’s normal-looking. Middling height, with curly brown hair. He’s thin, though that’s common nowadays. There aren’t many fat people left.

“No offence,” he says. “But how can I be sure you’re not a…. you know…”

“If I were a vampire, you’d be dead already.”

“Fair point,” he mutters.

“You mind if I finish this?” I ask.

“Please. Have as much as you like, I’ve already eaten.”

I finish the jerky, and we stand in awkward silence for a moment before I speak.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for food. Same as you, I’d imagine. Do you have a band with you? Friends?”

I raise my head at the question. That’s usually what desperate and starving thieves say before they pull their gun and take your food stores. But, he doesn’t seem to be prying. There’s something in his eyes. He seems so… innocent. Like a puppy, lost in a war. He’s the kind of guy I might have gone for, back before the world exploded.

“I only ask,” he says, sensing my hesitation, “because I have no one. I’m of the mind that people do better together. I’m looking for a band, so to speak.”

I nod.

“No,” I say. “Just me.”

“I see… Would you want…?”

“No,” I say. “Just me.”

“Right, right… Yes, of course. My apologies.”

I cross my arms over my chest. Don’t do it, I think, you know what happens when you let them stay…

But the chocolate had been heavenly, and he seems harmless. Besides, he may not survive the night without me.

“You can shelter here tonight… if you want. To say thank you, for the chocolate.”

His face seems to lighten, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Wonderful… Great, yes… Thank you.”

“But you leave in the morning.”

“Understood,” he says, though I can see his shoulders sag slightly, the light dulling, just a bit, in his eyes.

We sit for a while, speaking in hushed whispers, of the world before all this, and of everything that’s passed us by. I tell him of my brother, of what happened in Barcelona. The red shadows swooping out from the clouds, bringing the sky down with them.

He tells me about his son. Only a year old when it all fell apart. We cry together, and it feels nice to finally have someone else who understands what it means to be the last few left.

After the conversation has died down, and we both sit staring into the darkness, waiting for the vampires to leap out at us, I slide nearer to him, pressing myself into his side.

I know I shouldn’t, but the world already ended, right? Why shouldn’t I? How much worse can it get, really?

He does the same, and I rest my head on his shoulder. He puts his thumb on my chin, pulling my face up to meet his, and a feeling of warmth and dizziness explodes in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone else, let alone kiss them.

I’ve almost forgotten the feeling, living out here, alone. I know this can never last, I know that there’s no happy endings anymore, but even in a broken world there are moments of light to hold onto.

Why not enjoy them, while I can?

He presses forward, and I let him, falling into the warm embrace of the sleeping bag beneath me.

It's nice, to have someone to share the end of the world with.

I wake to the morning light stinging my eyes, and he’s no longer beside me. I see the sun begin to peek above the horizon, which means it’s safe for me to travel. The shadows are long, but it is only he and I in the ruined building. We’ve survived another night.

He stands in the corner, veiled in shadow.

“You’re a heavy sleeper,” he says. “Rare, out here.”

“I suppose it’s time for me to go,” I say, stretching my arms and feeling the knots in my back melt away.

“I suppose so,” he says, looking up. “I should go quickly, while the shadows are still long. It really does burn to be caught during the day.”

I freeze, too afraid even to turn and look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“The sunlight. I should leave now, so I don’t have to touch it.”

I crane my head slowly, and I see him standing still as stone, his shining eyes staring at me from the shadows in the corner.

I can hear my heart, trying to break free of my ribcage, and neither of us move.

Finally, when my nerves can’t stand it any longer, I leap backward, snatching my crossbow from my pack at my feet, coming up in a roll. I take aim, straight at his heart, and pull the trigger.

I hear a click, and nothing happens. Only now do I inspect the weapon, and see that the string has been removed.

“Yeah,” he nods, “couldn’t have you carrying that horrid thing around, could I? You could hurt somebody with that.”

“But— But you’re not… You can’t be…” Now it is my turn to stammer. “We…”

“It was lovely, and meant a great deal to me. I want you to know that. I don’t want what comes next to spoil it for you.”

“What… why?”

“Call it sport. I wanted your last night to be enjoyable, at least.”

My senses are only now beginning to return.

“And the garlic?”

“A silly superstition. One that we’ve allowed you to believe. The more you eat, the better you taste, in truth.”

My stomach turns, and it’s only my desperate hunger and overwhelming dread that stop me from retching.

I grab the wooden bolt from the track on top of the crossbow, and charge. He bats it out of my hand, and closes his fist over my throat.

“Why do you always fight? Don’t you know that it’s useless? Death is coming. That’s just… it. You don’t win any points for trying.”

“We’ll never give in to you!” I spit in his face, and I see a snarl as he wipes it away.

“We?” he says. “You mean the few scurrying rats that we left alive? Don’t you understand? You’re not the survivors, you’re not the resistance, you’re not the scrappy underdogs that are going to save the world. You’re the cattle we let roam free range. You’re meat. You’re just meat.”

He throws me to the ground, shattering my knee against a ruined microwave. I hear myself scream, but I hardly feel it.

I look back as he reaches up and grabs the collar of his shirt, digging his fingernails into his chest.

He tears away his skin, exposing the muscle beneath. I see his red, glistening, sinewy body, slick with blood. He watches me, unmoving, his eyes two pinpricks of light staring out from too-deep shadows.

He opens his mouth, and I hear the snapping of his bones as it unhinges, a second row of razor teeth protruding from the exposed flesh.

“What’s wrong?” I hear, in a whisper of his old voice. “You don’t think I’m handsome anymore?”

Nothing stops me this time, and I regurgitate the chocolate and the jerky all over the tiled floor.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You’ll love me soon enough.”

I barely have time to register the creature as it lunges at me, and the last thing I see is the shadow behind its eyes.

I awake anew, and the scent of blood fills my nose. It’s beautiful, and sweet. Like the scent of butter and coffee. Vanilla and fresh-baked bread.

I rise from the tiled floor, and he stands before me.

I love my Master. He’s radiant, beautiful, all-encompassing. He fills my heart, and I love him. There was nothing before him, and there will be nothing after him.

He is my life.

___________

So, that’s it for this time, folks. Remember to subscribe to our mailing list if you haven’t already, and grab your tickets to FantaSciiCon!

And, as always, thanks for reading!