Rabbits for Brunch Pt. 2 by: M. R. Vega
“Oh my god, oh my fecking god, this isn’t, this can’t be real! What the hell did I miss, there’d be news about whats happening, right? What about David? Oh my god!!! I need to get to the house, I need to get to my car and drive off, they’ll see me, I know it, what the feck do I do? What about David, He should’ve been pulling up if not already here. The boys are gonna rip me limb from limb and I’ll end up being their dessert while they engorge on my eyes and intestines! Fuck me!!!”
The internal argument of Josie’s was a reflection of an inner truth she’d faced when watching the myriad of horror flicks David insisted on having her watch with him. She didn’t mind a good thriller, C.H.U.D. being a favorite, and the select few intellectual and enthralling horror pieces but the zombie route was getting old. David always stated it would end like this. They’d get ripped apart by mindless hordes somewhere down the line. She’d roll her eyes toward him and say he was silly, cuddle into his nook; right at his pit where he smelled of work, sweat, and their loving. Her eyes got wide, having the thought of David and his body molting, rotting, acquiring the odor of the walking dead within a week’s time became too sick to bear. She started to cry. Hand over her mouth, still hugging the grass and waiting while the boys devoured the lot of their rabbits. She could hear the squelching of the rabbit’s bodies being torn and gnawed and an eerie yelping and squawking of the terrified rabbits still breathing awaiting their doom.
She held her breathing and slowed it as much as she could without choking at the terror she was succumbing to. The sounds reminded her of the revolting scenes David would get gitty with watching George Romero’s collections; this was worse and had her holding in gagging and a sampling of her own bile a time or a few. She looked at the sliding door and slowly started to crawl or slide along the grass not wanting to move too abruptly. Hoping she’d not bump into one of the few pink flamingos or stone cairns she had decorating the grounds, her silent prayers were for both her neighbours to be too enthralled with their morning feast. Her biggest wish though was that once she was close enough she could hop in the building, latch the door, and run to the car without anything being aware. ‘Fingers crossed’
After her slow-going slide and pause that nearly lasted thirty minutes, she found that she was almost there, she was sure that the last of the rabbits had been ingested now. She didn’t care to inspect or for that matter even know. She just wanted inside, somewhere safe…safe?
That word had a new meaning now, didn’t it? she thought to herself before coming to terms with how quickly and quietly this next move would have to go or she’d likely have teeth jutting into her flesh. She inhaled quietly, gulped slowly, feeling her heart palpitate and almost silently slid the door open and swooped in without anyone or thing recognizing her movement. She slid the door slowly and once she felt it stop, latched it quickly and turned on her heel, grabbed the keys to her car and ran to the garage. Grabbing a phone hadn’t registered, let alone her thought of phones seemed likely more of a trap to any issue if she survived getting out of town. It’d be her luck that a forgotten phone alarm would end up blaring and letting anyone know exactly where she was in her distant future and the thoughts needed to be about survival not getting ripped to shreds.
The garage was already open…and David’s truck was idling with the driver’s door open. She could even hear his crap music playing on the radio quietly and with the door to the garage open gasped quietly. She whipped her head around and whispered into the house. “David…David…Dave, where the fuck are you?” She said this all within the decibel of a whisper and debated whether turning back into the house and searching would be an enlightening or detrimental choice. Hearing a crash and incoherent jabber of gnashing teeth told her to run. The truck though was blocking her car so she took her chance with the open door of Dave’s stupid truck and jumped in. There was blood everywhere, the seat had a puddle that her butt became accustomed to quickly and she threw the vehicle into reverse before giving a moment to the sound she ran from. It was surely David but it wasn’t worth the risk of getting her body ripped up for and drove away recklessly bashing through her mailbox and nearly hitting the neighbour’s silver Miata while speeding out of the cozy neighborhood she’d grown to love within the last couple years. Before getting to the stop sign though she made the idiotic choice of looking at the rearview mirror and saw a bloody, stumbling David lurching out of the garage, holding Timothy by the hair and flinging an arm of someone across the pavement. She screamed, swiping her sweat from her brow and tears from her eyes, she kept her foot planted to the pedal and refused to let up till the chaos around her started to thin out.
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