If from merely human motives I have fought with wild beasts in Ephesus, what profit is it to me? If the dead do not rise, let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we are to die.1 Corinthians 15:32
The body sank in a macabre parody of swimming, its
dead limbs graceful as it moved through the water weighted
with stone.
The shark struck fast, multiple rows of teeth slashing
the body into neat chunks of meat. Viscous, dark, blood
melted into the salt water, a dinner bell calling in more
sharks.
An oyster lay in its bed patiently filtering its own
meal. Something small and sharp passed through the oyster’s
gills, irritating the soft muscle just behind them. The
oyster tried to get rid of it, but particle wouldn’t budge.
Rather than fight with the irritant, it began to seal it in
smooth nacre. The particle was wrapped in layers of dead
black, dark as a cave.
#
Mary sat at the oyster bar, twirling the straps of her
Coach bag, wondering why she was there. Her friend Nancy
insisted it was a great way to pick up guys, but all she
saw were couples sitting at small tables, slurping oysters
from the half shell. She rolled her eyes at the pair
feeding each other the blobs of snot. She poked at her own
plate of mollusks, drawing designs in the cocktail sauce.
A bald man, tall, and obese, looked harried as he
rapidly shucked bushels of oyster for the ravenous
molluskavores that crowded the small joint. Oh yeah, Nancy
thought that since she didn’t drink, an oyster bar was as
likely a place to meet a guy as the local tap. As if. She
rolled her eyes again as she caught her friend leaving the
restroom.
Nancy pulled out a stool covered in blue cracked vinyl
and started in on her right away.
“You could at least smile. Who’s going to give you
second look if you just scowl into your plate,” Nancy said.
She picked up a tiny fork and slid one of the oysters off
the plate, worked the delicacy off the shell, dunked it
into the inkblot of sauce and sucked it down– all in one
practiced movement.
Mary wanted to throw up as she watched her friend
swallow the tidbit like a snake consuming a mouse.
There was a tiny dot of sauce colored the corner of
Nancy’s mouth. Always conscious there might be someone
watching she dabbed at it with a napkin rather than lick it
with her tongue.
“Who told you there were men at an oyster bar?
Everyone here has someone except us. Well, we have each
other, but other than the mixed couples, the other tables
are all women. I’m so out of here.” Mary picked up her bag,
dug out a twenty, and left it next to plate.
“Why don’t you finish the rest? I know you like
slugs.” Mary tried to get away, knowing that Nancy could
easily sway her if she had the mind to. Mary didn’t have
the willpower to say no to her.
“Oh hon, don’t be that way. I promised you a nice
night out. You’ve been cooped up in that apartment of yours
since John, uh, never mind.”
“Just say it. Since John dumped me. It’s not your
fault I’m not great company. Maybe you’ll find someone to
keep you warm tonight. I’ll just get out of your way. I
hate men, they suck.”
“The good ones do,” Nancy said trying to cheer up her
friend.
Mary tried to push in the stool but a small flap of
ripped vinyl snagged on the soft pink silk of her dress,
running the cloth.
“Damn it, as if the night couldn’t get any worse.”
Without thinking, she sat back down on the stool, put her
head on her hands and started to weep.
Nancy looked at her friend and held out a paper
napkin. “It’s all right. John was an ass, don’t mess up
your face about him.” She looked around and returned her
gaze to her friend. “Mary, please honey, stop crying,
people are starting to stare.”
Mary looked up, mascara running down her cheeks in
long black tally marks. She covered her face with her
hands. She’d never been so embarrassed her whole life.
Without thinking, Mary picked up one of the oysters and
forked the bite into her mouth.
She gagged as something hard traveled down her throat
along with the soft body of the oyster. Mary couldn’t find
her breath, the world swam in a shimmer of colors that
didn’t match and she hit the filthy gray tiled floor.
Mary came to in a coughing fit. She felt drool, snot
and tears roll down her face committing the coup de grâce
to her make-up. She wondered if Nancy would admit they were
together. Forcing her eyes to open and focus, she saw she
was resting against the shoulder of a man she didn’t know.
She struggled to get up, as much to exert her
independence as to get away from the smell of rot and
oyster that emanated from the cavern of his mouth.
His head was dipped towards her, so she only could
see a portion of his face. What she did see made her skin
crawl. Deep red pockmarks scarred the skin, and filled the
creases of his hangdog jowls. Gray hairs sprouted from
scattered black moles, round as balls. His eyes were his
only nice feature, like the gods had taken pity on him.
They were a gorgeous, clear, turquoise blue shot with black
flecks.
“Miss, are you okay? Miss?” He gave her a little
shake, then eased up when he noticed her light brown eyes
had fluttered open. “Are you allergic to shellfish? Do you
need 911?” His voice was dark and thick as black licorice.
She found herself attracted to him despite his
appalling countenance and breath. She subtly relaxed in his
arms. Even his breath didn’t seem quite so horrible. She
rethought that. It was horrible. Maybe. She wondered if
she’d hit her head.
“No, I’m fine.” She cautiously touched her scalp.
There was something wrong with her. He was not the sort of
guy she would normally get hot and bothered by. Outside of
the obvious, she didn’t even know the man.
Nancy pushed towards her friend and pulled her from
the stranger’s arms. She felt the magnetic attraction
between the two and wanted to throw up. This so wasn’t what
she’d had in mind for her friend when she’d asked her out.
“Do you need help getting home?” The stranger’s voice
flowed over her, a warm bath after a good workout in the
gym.
“Mary, don’t be ridiculous, I’ll take you home.”
Mary looked between her friend and the man, who still
had a hand on her arm. The skin was rough with pustules and
open sores. She’d never seen anything so fascinating in her
life.
“I think I’d like you take me home,” she told the
stranger, feeling the sharp daggers shooting from Nancy’s
eyes.
“Whatever are you thinking, Mary! Do you have a death
wish? You need to go to the hospital and find out what just
happened, not go home with this…” she trailed off before
she said what she really wanted to say about the repulsive
man who was holding onto her friend’s arm so possessively.
“Stranger.” She completed her sentence. “You can’t go
home with a stranger.”
“Why ever not? Wasn’t that the plan? Find a nice guy
to hook up with?” Mary pulled away from both of them,
feeling like a bone between two dogs.
She turned to the stranger; in awe of the attraction
he held for her. No one had ever made her feel this way.
Was this what was meant by chemistry? Love at first sight?
She was dazzled.
“Thank you so much for helping me. I don’t know what
got into me. I’m Mary,” She said pointing to herself, and
then pointed to her friend. “This is Nancy. Sometimes she
acts like a mother hen and other times like a pain in the
ass. Most of the time she’s all right though.”
Mary picked her purse off of the floor, straightened
up and smoothed her dress. It was a total write-off, the
snag had run up the length of the material, and red sauce
and dirt repeated the pattern under her feet.
“I think I’ll just take myself on home. I feel fine.”
She gave a hard look at Nancy. “Stay here and enjoy
yourself. I can live vicariously for a while. Really.”
“Are you quite sure, at least let me follow and make
sure you get home safely.” He held his hand out, not to
steady her this time, though she wouldn’t have minded that,
but to shake hers. It was cold and clammy. It felt
wonderful against her hot skin. “I’m Mike. If you’re
worried I’m a stalker I have references. Er, not as a
stalker.”
Mike smiled; the wide grin exposed the rotten stumps
of yellow teeth. He took his wallet out from his rear pants
pocket and pulled out a white business card. The embossed
logo of a local biotech company was centered above his
name, position as senior scientist, and phone numbers.
“Perhaps when you’re feeling better you’ll call? Just
to let me know there were no ill effects from your battle
with the oyster. My cell number is on the card and I always
carry it.”
“I will, I promise. But I’m just fine. Nancy, I’ll
call you tomorrow. Late tomorrow. I know how much you like
to sleep in.” She waggled her brows at Nancy, realizing she
really did feel much better.
Mary gave Mike one last look, memorizing every aspect
of his appearance—thin, graying hair with patches of skin
showing through, rumpled work suit down to his worn shoes
covered in dirt. She couldn’t have answered why, but there
was no doubt. She wanted him, disgracefully. He wasn’t like
anyone she’d ever met. It had to be the eyes.
Then she looked at her friend, who rolled her eyes at
her but didn’t try to stop her.
Mary fluttered her fingers goodbye, stumbled awkwardly,
caught herself and left the oyster bar to catch a bus home.
#
Mary woke up with a throbbing headache and a
craving for…something. She rolled out of bed, slipped on
her new purple satin robe, and shambled to the kitchen.
She thought she’d put on coffee, but the smell made
her nauseous. There was nothing in the fridge that looked
appetizing either, though she’d just gone shopping and was
well stocked.
Shrugging, she headed for the bathroom. At least a hot
shower sounded good.
She stripped and inspected herself in the mirror. It
wasn’t surprising that there were assorted bruises along
her side and back. She remembered taking a hard fall and
remembered hitting the stool on the way down.
What bothered her was the rash that spread across her
body and face. There were oozing sores and cysts that took
her aback. She remembered the man who’d helped her the
night before. Was he contagious? Did he have, OH MY GOD,
leprosy? She checked to make sure everything was still
attached.
She ran her fingers lightly over the pus filled
eruptions. She was relieved to find they didn’t hurt.
Actually, nothing hurt–maybe she’d taken some painkillers
at some point in the night.
#
After she was done, she returned to the kitchen.
Nothing was new in the fridge and she still wasn’t
interested in coffee. Maybe she should see what the special
was at the corner café.
Her phone rang, and she located it under her bed where
it had fallen out of her pocket the night before. By the
time she answered it, Nancy had left a message on voice
mail. She decided not to call her back right away.
Except. The small white card was lying next to where
she’d found the phone so she picked it up. Why she tapped
in the numbers she couldn’t explain, but she needed to hear
the soft honey of the man’s voice. Mike’s voice, she
corrected herself.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey, how are you? I
was wondering if you’d call.”
“Umm, how’d you know it was me?”
“You have the only number I don’t have an ID for. How
do you feel today? I wouldn’t doubt you have some
interesting bruises,” his voice skimmed over her body. She
could feel it, literally feel it touch her body. Yet, the
sores still didn’t bother her.
“I’m fine. I did have a question. Uh. Uh. This is hard
but, um, is your, um…”
“What? Is my what?” He asked, though there was no
confusion in his voice. He knew what she was asking.
“Your skin condition, is it contagious?”
“Not that… look, can we meet somewhere. I really would
like to see you.”
She thought about it, then decided the café would be
safe enough. “Yes, I was thinking about breakfast. I don’t
have anything to eat here.” Or at least, that she was
interested in. “Are you familiar with The Corner Café on
Ford and Nixon? They usually have decent food.”
“I know where it is. What time?”
She looked at her watch. “It takes me about 5 minutes
to walk there. What time would be good for you?” She put
the ball back in his court. The verbal dance between two
people deciding on a first date. Though she wasn’t sure
that what this was, it felt like it might be.
“Give me ten minutes.”
The phone went dead. She decided to use the few
minutes to make her bed before she left.
#
The sky was gray and the wind was strong, bringing in
a storm, she mused. Her front door nearly pulled her arm
off when she pushed it open. She found it peculiar that it
didn’t feel cold. Other than the swaying trees and the
gusts that tangled in her hair, she wouldn’t have known how
bad it was out.
Mike was leaning against a light pole, waiting for
her. His face looked like it was out of a surreal painting,
the skin almost running down to his collar. She wanted to
run her fingers over it.
“You look wonderful, none the worse for wear after
last night,” Mike said, with real appreciation.
“Thank you, but you’re a liar.” She gestured to the
rash spreading across her face. “Are you contagious?”
He took her hand, turned it over and then wrapped his
fingers in hers. She didn’t draw away.
“Are you really hungry for any of that?” He asked,
tilting his head to the café.
She glanced at the specials posted in the window and
decided she wasn’t and shook her head.
“Good, I’m not much into that kind of food either. How
about we just take a walk?”
Mary decided that was a very good idea, his hand in
hers felt so good, tingles ran up her hand and zeroed into
her brain.
Brains. She shook the word out of her mind.
“What’s wrong Mary?” He tilted her chin back.
“No…thing, nothings wrong. I think.”
“Good. I need to ask you what you might think as an
odd question. Did you have any bite marks along with the
sores?”
She stopped walking when she heard his question. What
on Earth? “No. Why would you think anyone has bitten me?
Unless… Look, I broke up with my ex last week. We haven’t
been getting along for a while, so it was time. No one has
BITTEN me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding
like that. I just wondered if you’d been in a fight or been
hurt recently.”
Unless you counted her heart, Mary thought, but just
said, “No, of course not. Why?”
“This kind of disease is carried in the saliva. It can
also come from eating…other things. Have you eaten anything
unusual lately?”
“What’s with the twenty questions. You and I didn’t
swap spit,” yet, she amended to herself, “and the only
unusual thing I’ve eaten was that oyster last night. Could
I be allergic?”
They stopped at a traffic light, and waited for the walk
sign. Conversation stopped until they were walking again.
“I don’t know how an oyster would have been
contaminated with the prion,” he murmured half to himself.
“Prion? What prion? What are you talking about?” They
walked through the gates that led into a small city park,
asphalt paths winding through close cut grass. The only
trees were on the decorative brick strips between the
sidewalk and the road.
“Our lab was attempting to find a cure for
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, it’s related to mad cow disease.
Very nasty. It’s caused by a prion, it causes disease like
a virus, but it’s mainly a protein. There isn’t a cure for
any of the prion diseases.”
The sun was bright, but other than Mike’s cool, clammy
hand, she didn’t know if it was hot.
“So what does that have to do with this?” She gave
into her need, and gently stroked down his face, the skin
melting into hers.
“It causes Zombification. You’ve already noticed you
don’t want to eat anything normal, but I can hear your
stomach rumble. I know what you need, and in a few hours I
think you’ll be ready for it.”
“Zombification!” She let out a little shriek. “Need?
What do I need to be ready for?” She pulled at his left
arm, and heard a meaty sound.
He led her to a green park bench and they sat
together, hip to thigh. He wrapped his right arm around
her, and placed a finger over her split lips.
“What you’ll be craving. The disease is progressive.
And we postulated there might be two strains, a positive
and a negative, attracting each other like iron to a
magnet. I think you have the other strain of prion, but I
can’t figure out how you got it. Are you SURE nothing
different has happened to you recently?
“Nothing. Nothing at all. What do you mean there’s no
cure! Am I going to die? What’s HAPPENING to me.” She was
screaming in hysteria, but he held her tighter, pushing her
head into his chest. As much to calm her, as to keep her
quiet.
The scent of corruption enfolded her and she sighed
and snuggled in closer.
“It’s going to be fine. I think that maybe you’re
ready for breakfast now. Are you up for it?”
“How do I know if I’m up for it if I don’t know what I
want?”
“Well, I think I need something caffeinated. How about
we go to that nice coffee shop over there,” he said as he
pointed across the street.
“I don’t want coffee, it turns my stomach.” She held
her rumbling middle.
“I’m not talking about coffee, dearest. I’m talking
about coffee soaked brains. Caffeine headaches are the
worst. Are you ready?”
Brains. BRAINS. Sweet brains bathed in caffeine, she
thought.
“Oh yes, yes. BRAINS!”
And they shambled off, his arm in hers, as he held her
hand with the one still attached to his torso.
The End.
The Moral: Don’t eat oysters in months that don’t
contain the letter R.
of course the Vardo IS pretty cushy.
