Dead On Arrival.
Prologue: The Man.
The wind screeched wildly, rattling the windows and sending napkins flying haphazardly around the diner as the man open the door. He was a grizzled man, easily into his fifties with a ragged salt and pepper beard and white thinning hair. Kind wrinkles creased his weathered face, and his bony fingers wrapped around the door handle as he pushed it closed behind himself.
One of the incandescent lights overhead flickered threateningly as thunder rumbled outside, rattling the building. A sigh escaped the man’s lips as he slid into an unoccupied booth in a secluded corner near one of the windows. He removed his drenched jacket and watched the rain sleeting past the window. A voice interrupted him and he turned to see a petite blonde waitress waiting patiently with a notepad and pencil in hand. She had evidently asked what he would like to order. “A hamburger and black coffee please,” he murmured, giving the waitress a polite smile.
The waitress nodded politely back before she turned and wandered back towards the kitchen.
The man was the only person in the diner, other than the few staff members who were unfortunate enough to be on duty for the evening shift. The man returned his pale blue eyes to the world outside the window once more. He watched keenly as the ocean pounded relentlessly against the docked ships, and he watched as the trees bent at precarious angles, and plastic bags flew through the air.
“Here’s you coffee sir,” the waitress said, setting down the white mug next to the man.
“Thank you,” he replied taking a sip. He watched the waitress retreat back into the kitchen, staring absently at the swinging doors long after she had passed through them. They re-opened shortly as the waitress made her way across the diner to deliver the man his burger. She set the plate gingerly on his table. With a nod of thanks from the man she turned and slipped back to the kitchen once again.
The man set about preparing his burger. He slathered mustard, ketchup and barbecue sauce on it, and carefully reassemble the burger again. He took a hearty bite, chewing slowly so as to savour the taste. A dim thought crossed him mind that the meat was sweet, though he blamed it on the barbecue sauce that he’d coated the burger with. He never finished his burger, hungry as he was, he was nearly done. Down to the last few bites when the pain started. His stomach seized, his muscles cramped, and his vision blurred. The world seemed to spin around him.
The man struggled out of the booth, to his feet, and robotically made his way to the restroom. Each step caused his muscles to burn and caused his vision to sway. In the restroom he sank to his knees, bracing himself against the floor with his palms and wretched blood onto the floor. All of his muscles quivered and burned with the effort it too to stand up, sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his face in little rivulets.
When he stood he braced himself against the porcelain sink, forcing himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He felt the remaining color drain from his face. His skin was graying, literally the color of ash. His eyes, though he could still see perfectly, were a milky white color and looked sightless. His mouth was bloodied, and blood stained his clothes, and upon seeing the blood on his face he realized jus how hungry he was. Starving, craving meat, though he couldn’t place what kind. And within moments of that, any coherent thoughts disappeared and he could think of nothing.
“Sir, the diner is closing for the night,” the waitress called, opening the door just a crack. The sounds of coughing and laboured breathing met her ears. The cough was a horrid, a sickly, wet sounding, wheezing cough. “Sir?” Another choking cough. Finally the waitress open the door fully. “Oh god,” she gasped staring at the blood scene before her.
The man was nowhere to be seen but there was blood smeared everywhere. There’d obviously been a pool of it on the floor, though now the pool was diminished, and instead the blood was smeared all over the walls, mirrors, stall doors, the sinks, and nearly everywhere else. The woman turned to flee the bathroom, crashing into the man in her haste to leave. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the man lunged forwards and sank his teeth into the woman’s shoulder where it met up with the neck. She promptly fainted and sank to the floor.
From the bathroom the man lurched towards the kitchen, following the distinct scent of human flesh and blood. A racking cough escaped him, and animal like grunts and groans were uttered as he pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He lurched towards the chef, sinking his teeth into the young man’s leg. There was a howl of agony, and the two other staff members spun around.
Prologue: The Man.
The wind screeched wildly, rattling the windows and sending napkins flying haphazardly around the diner as the man open the door. He was a grizzled man, easily into his fifties with a ragged salt and pepper beard and white thinning hair. Kind wrinkles creased his weathered face, and his bony fingers wrapped around the door handle as he pushed it closed behind himself.
One of the incandescent lights overhead flickered threateningly as thunder rumbled outside, rattling the building. A sigh escaped the man’s lips as he slid into an unoccupied booth in a secluded corner near one of the windows. He removed his drenched jacket and watched the rain sleeting past the window. A voice interrupted him and he turned to see a petite blonde waitress waiting patiently with a notepad and pencil in hand. She had evidently asked what he would like to order. “A hamburger and black coffee please,” he murmured, giving the waitress a polite smile.
The waitress nodded politely back before she turned and wandered back towards the kitchen.
The man was the only person in the diner, other than the few staff members who were unfortunate enough to be on duty for the evening shift. The man returned his pale blue eyes to the world outside the window once more. He watched keenly as the ocean pounded relentlessly against the docked ships, and he watched as the trees bent at precarious angles, and plastic bags flew through the air.
“Here’s you coffee sir,” the waitress said, setting down the white mug next to the man.
“Thank you,” he replied taking a sip. He watched the waitress retreat back into the kitchen, staring absently at the swinging doors long after she had passed through them. They re-opened shortly as the waitress made her way across the diner to deliver the man his burger. She set the plate gingerly on his table. With a nod of thanks from the man she turned and slipped back to the kitchen once again.
The man set about preparing his burger. He slathered mustard, ketchup and barbecue sauce on it, and carefully reassemble the burger again. He took a hearty bite, chewing slowly so as to savour the taste. A dim thought crossed him mind that the meat was sweet, though he blamed it on the barbecue sauce that he’d coated the burger with. He never finished his burger, hungry as he was, he was nearly done. Down to the last few bites when the pain started. His stomach seized, his muscles cramped, and his vision blurred. The world seemed to spin around him.
The man struggled out of the booth, to his feet, and robotically made his way to the restroom. Each step caused his muscles to burn and caused his vision to sway. In the restroom he sank to his knees, bracing himself against the floor with his palms and wretched blood onto the floor. All of his muscles quivered and burned with the effort it too to stand up, sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his face in little rivulets.
When he stood he braced himself against the porcelain sink, forcing himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He felt the remaining color drain from his face. His skin was graying, literally the color of ash. His eyes, though he could still see perfectly, were a milky white color and looked sightless. His mouth was bloodied, and blood stained his clothes, and upon seeing the blood on his face he realized jus how hungry he was. Starving, craving meat, though he couldn’t place what kind. And within moments of that, any coherent thoughts disappeared and he could think of nothing.
“Sir, the diner is closing for the night,” the waitress called, opening the door just a crack. The sounds of coughing and laboured breathing met her ears. The cough was a horrid, a sickly, wet sounding, wheezing cough. “Sir?” Another choking cough. Finally the waitress open the door fully. “Oh god,” she gasped staring at the blood scene before her.
The man was nowhere to be seen but there was blood smeared everywhere. There’d obviously been a pool of it on the floor, though now the pool was diminished, and instead the blood was smeared all over the walls, mirrors, stall doors, the sinks, and nearly everywhere else. The woman turned to flee the bathroom, crashing into the man in her haste to leave. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the man lunged forwards and sank his teeth into the woman’s shoulder where it met up with the neck. She promptly fainted and sank to the floor.
From the bathroom the man lurched towards the kitchen, following the distinct scent of human flesh and blood. A racking cough escaped him, and animal like grunts and groans were uttered as he pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He lurched towards the chef, sinking his teeth into the young man’s leg. There was a howl of agony, and the two other staff members spun around.
