Something about Mary

Legend has it when the first generation virus swept across the planet the world’s most powerful leader, as the story goes, was a great American president. The greatest. It’s said that he single handedly built a wall around his country to protect his people, laying every brick himself with his own bare hands, with only the help of a few thousand migrant workers to carry the bricks and mix the mortar. It’s said, he promised all his fellow countries (except China) that his scientists, who were the best in the world, by far, would eradicate this virus. Even drinking bleach to prove to the world he was serious about every promise made. What a man. What a President. What a Legend. 

Ben stared at the faded poster of the president that was stuck to the bathroom wall. God Bless America he said to his reflection. He searched through the cupboards for the cotton wool. Date night required some extra effort, and who else but the greatest president to ever have lived could inspire Ben for the evening ahead. His third date with Mary. He just had to keep cool. Resist his urges.

The human race, or what was left of it, was experiencing the eighth generation of the virus. Each generation had mutated differently from the previous one. 

Ben leaned over the sink and lifted the skin from his scalp. He dabbed the cotton wool at the oozing, writhing mess that hid beneath his matted hair. One by one maggots began to drop into the sink, wriggling round before disappearing down the plug hole. He scraped the cotton wool against the sticky pus. Didn’t want a maggot dropping down his face during his date with Mary. How embarrassing would that be? He looked in the mirror with the cotton wool stuck to his head. Then he looked at the poster of the president.

A toothless smile crept onto his face. He grabbed handfuls of the cotton wool and rubbed them against an angry pus filled sore that spilt from a gash in his leg. Sticking clumps of fluffy cotton wool all over his head. He stood straight and checked out the similarity to his hero in the poster. A god like image of the former president standing on a scaffold tower bare to the waste, with a torso that looked like it had been calved from stone. His amazing hair wisping up in the breeze, as the president, with a trowel in one hand and a brick in the other sold the American dream, his dreams to his people.

Ben admired his handy work. He looked like an ice cream. He reached for the mouth wash, knocked it back and swallowed. He had a good feeling about tonight’s date. I mean who could resist him now he looked like the greatest human being of all time. Mary would be knocked off her one remaining good foot for sure. Shaking his head, the last of the maggots dropped to the floor. He swung the window open and looked to see if the sun was at its highest. He and Mary both agreed that would be the safest time to meet and give them some time together before it got dark. No one came out after dark anymore. Not if they wanted to survive until the next day. There were, after all, still some seventh gen victims roaming the streets and they get really cranky after dark.

Ben sat on the bench in the park and watched a squirrel rip the head off a duck, whose virus ravaged body couldn’t move quickly enough to escape. Rumour is that around the third gen, the virus transferred back from humans to animals on a small farm in Wales. The details are sketchy as to how it happened, but a red faced sheep farmer found half his flock showing symptoms. Now several years on every living species on the planet is contaminated. And the virus was mutating in the birds and animals as well. Ben watched as a fox leapt from a bush and tore the squirrel in half before scurrying back to its hiding place. He heard Mary approaching. She scraped her stump along the gravel path leaving a line like a ploughed field behind her. It was Ben’s favourite sound. He didn’t turn to look, just waited for the sound to get closer. Mary plonked herself down on the bench. Her dirty yellow blood stained dress matched the bunch of dandelions Ben had collected. 

“You look beautiful today Mary, these are for you.”

Mary took the bunch of weeds and groaned from somewhere deep in her chest. Her voice box had collapsed a few years previous with rot, and her one remaining eye rolled around loosely in its socket. They sat holding hands for a while watching the world go by. An old man lay on the grass next to the lake. The couple watched as his body twitched releasing small squeaking noises.

“Mary, did you hear that? I think we’ve got a blower.” Mary straightened up her eye momentarily and groaned. They watched and waited as the old man tried to roll over. His decomposing organs building up gas inside his body. The buttons on his shirt started to give one at a time as the swelling in his stomach increased. Then, without warning, he exploded, showering the couple in decaying body parts. Mary turned to Ben and groaned, she was covered in spleen. Ben pulled the cuff down on his shirt and dabbed at her face, scooping out bits of spleen from her empty eye socket. He could feel his urges starting to build. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Mary…we’ve known each other a while now….”Mary groaned and her eye danced around. She struggled to keep it straight when she was nervous. Ben put his hands on her cheeks and stroked her face.

“Don’t be nervous Mary, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.” He could feel the urge growing stronger, he knew there was no point trying to resist it. He leaned in slowly, their faces getting closer. Mary shut her eye and puckered her lips. Ben squeezed her face gently, then with one swift movement he ripped her head off. Her remaining eye shot from its socket and on to her cheek. Without hesitation Ben sucked the eye into his mouth and bit down hard, popping it, sending eye juice trickling down his chin. He dropped her head on the floor and sat back on the bench. 

Whoops. Did it again. Looks like I’ll have to find myself another Mary he thought to himself.