For My Child

 He picked up the broadcast about five miles ago, as dark clouds overhead preceded the blustering winds and torrent of a gray and slushy mix of ash and snow. Even now, the man known as Eric Thames walked with every inch of his body covered by clothing. A pocket radio, battery close to dead, was clutched in his right hand. The crackling message continued on, loud and clear despite the gusts churning powder into the air.

“-anyone receiving this,” the radio said with the voice of a woman. “Please help, my son is in danger and the storm has us trapped. He’s had no food for days, and now he’s running a fever. His father went out for supplies before the snow, but we’ve not heard from him since.”

Eric, eyes behind protective goggles, stared straight ahead; he walked along a snow covered, concrete road with cracks highlighted by the ashen colored powder. The road led to a cluster of overgrown, rotting buildings within sight of an equally rotted city skyline. The central building, marked with partial letters spelling -LDI in dirty white lettering, had the front entrance boarded shut with a visible slot just above Eric’s eye level.

“-we’re sheltered in an old world market, just outside of the Fort Knox impact crater. Somebody, anybody who can hear this; I beg of you, help us. If not for me, then for my child.”

The signal then cut out; Eric looked to see that the radio’s light was out. He dropped the radio to the snowy ground and left it to be buried by the cold torrent, unwavering in his approach to the store. An antenna jutted out from the roof, crudely fashioned, and Eric was sure he had the right place. When he arrived at the entrance, Eric reached out with a gloved hand and hammered hard against the plywood.

No response.

“Hey!” he called over the gusting winds. “Anyone hear me?”

Still no answer; Eric knocked hard again.

“Oh for-”

With a sigh, Eric took a step back and then ran at the plywood with his elbow thrust forward. He impacted against the barricade, which immediately gave way and spilled both man and wood to the ground. Eric let out a yelp of surprise as he rolled onto his back, now on the floor of the building while snow and wind blustered through the new opening. Eric stood up with a grunt and tried to brush himself off, a vain effort, then looked around and realized he was alone.

No one at the door.

Eric stepped through the opening leading into the store itself, his boots crunching against the grit and dirt coating the inside. The only light came from various holes in the ceiling and in the hastily erected barricades over the windows and additional doors. A maze-like construct of rotting shelving lined the main floor. Eric pulled off his face wrappings, took in a deep breath of sub-zero air, and gave a shudder.

“Hello?” he called. “Anyone home? I-”

Eric glanced back at the toppled barricade and shrugged.

“I did knock-”

No response; Eric’s voice, alone and tired, echoed against the walls.

Empty, he thought. Can’t be, that broadcast couldn’t be that old.

“Miss?” he called out again. “I picked up your broadcast, I’m here to help. I’m not a threat, I promise.”

Eric grimaced; sure, she’d believe that now. He smoothed back his wild head of hair, then dropped his hand to his belt and continued on into the store. Eric’s eyes scanned every wall, visible part of the floor, and even the ceiling overhead. Nothing screamed of suspicion.

Am I too late? He wondered.

Eric continued through the shelves, and found signs of neither life or death.

I don’t like this place, the suspicious man realized. I should leave-

Then he turned left, and stopped dead in his tracks; a fidgeting, swaddled figure lay in a beam of faint light coming from the outside. Stray snow flakes blowing in from the storm drifted down, and the figure would let out a fussy noise whenever one touched their skin.

“What the-” Eric said aloud.

The baby, staring up at the drifting snow, stopped fidgeting and looked over at Eric with a blank expression on their face. Even as Eric drew the .45 gun from his belt and aimed it around, the baby remained still and silent.

Eric, grip tight on his weapon, smelled a trap. Every instinct told him to run.

Then, the baby let out a confused cooing noise.

You leave and they’re as good as dead, he realized.

Eric remained still for a few seconds, finger on the trigger, then realized no one was about to jump him; he holstered his gun, then slowly approached the child. The tiny human in question turned away from Eric, and resumed staring up at the drifting snow.

“Easy,” Eric urged. “Not gonna hurt you, just gonna help you.”

The baby’s big, brown eyes locked with Eric’s green; Eric jumped at the sudden and lone babble.

“You’re not gonna cry on me, are you?” he asked. “We’ll both have a breakdown if that happens, just a warning.”

Cooing now, the baby stuck one hand out of the ratty old blanket swaddling it and reached out for Eric, who recoiled out of habit.

“Where’s your mama?” he asked. “Where’s the lady that brought me here?”

Slowly, Eric knelt down and secured the blanket over the baby, then cradled the blanket in both arms and stood up with the child resting their hands on his collar. The baby looked around with those huge, brown eyes in confusion.

“Let’s find mama, eh?” Eric asked. “Let’s find her.”

The baby and their new friend continued through the rotting maze, until Eric came upon the other side and caught a new sound faint in the air: the rattling of an old generator, behind two swinging doors leading deeper into the building. Carefully, Eric passed through the doors. The baby, entranced by the doors, reached out for one.

“Hey,” Eric snapped, snacking the baby’s hands. “Don’t touch that, it’s dirty.”

The baby let out a noise that sounded close to a cry.

“Oh no- oh nononono- I’m sorry, okay? Don’t cry? Please? Here-”

Eric opened the swinging door.

“Here, touch away.”

The baby instead looked at him in confusion.

“I-” Eric stammered. “This is why I’ve never had kids. No offense.”

He closed the swinging door again, and his eyes caught a spot of red on the floor beneath a small hole in the above ceiling.

Bright, crimson red.

“Oh-” he said. “Okay then, let’s-”

Eric looked around and found an empty shelf; he carefully laid the baby on it.

“-let’s put you there, and I’ll go on alone. Just to be safe, okay?”

The baby let out a confused sound.

“I’ll be back, you stay right there- stay.”

Eric grimaced again.

“It’s a child, not a dog. Way to go, Eric.”

The baby’s hands went into their mouth.

“Perfect, do that and I’ll be right back. Cry if you need me-”

Eric turned to walk away, then doubled around.

“That’s the only time you’re allowed to cry.”

Indifferent, the baby continued sucking its fingers. Eric dropped a hand to his belt and continued through the corridor, gingerly stepping past the drop of blood and finding more leading along like a trail. Eric finally reached the back room, and found the source of the rattling noise; a rusty generator, with an electric lantern and an old ham radio plugged into it. Metal wires ran from the radio to a hole in the ceiling, Eric knowing it ended at the crude antenna fashioned outside.

A figure with long hair, one Eric knew to be of a woman, was slumped in a chair in front of the radio. Slowly, he approached the figure and found an unconscious woman sitting in the chair with a blanket similar to the baby’s draped over her legs. Suddenly, the woman’s body shuddered and she gasped. Familiar big, brown eyes looked up at Eric in horror.

“No-” she gasped. “No- get-”

The woman stifled a cough, her voice rasp like the whisper on the broadcast.

“You have to run-”

“Miss?” he asked. “It’s okay, I’m here to help-”

“Get out-”

“Miss, it’s okay, I’ve found your baby and I’m gonna help you both.”

“Baby-?” the woman gasped. “No- you- you didn’t pick up the baby outside, did you?”

“What happened here?” Eric asked.

The woman then began to sob.

“Then you’re as good as dead, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

“He made me do it, I had no choice-”

“Who made you do what?”

“This-” the woman gestured at the radio and generator. “The broadcast.”

Tears began to stream from the woman’s eyes.

“There was a community in this place, and we got by thanks to the traders that-” She grimaced in visible pain. “-that came by every so often, but then the storm started to draw close. The traders were told to avoid this area, and we’ve been forgotten for a week since then. Nobody knew that my husband-”

The woman's body shook with sobs.

“What about your husband?” Eric asked.

“That-” the woman gasped. “That he wasn’t human, he was a-...a shapeshifter.”

Eric felt his throat go dry and his grip on his gun tighten.

“What happened to the others?”

“I tried to convince him to leave and go get help,” the woman continued. “That he would have an easier time in the cold than any of the others or myself, but shapeshifters aren’t like humans when they’re starving. They burn hotter, and they need more food, and they’ll stop at nothing to feed that hunger.”

Eric’s shooting hand was visibly trembling as the woman turned back to him.

“They couldn’t stop his hunger-”

She reached one arm up, grabbed the blanket on her legs, and pulled it down to reveal two bloody stumps with visible bone where her legs had been.

“-and neither could I.”

Down the hall, the baby let out another cry.

“And neither will you, I’m afraid.”

Suddenly, the baby let out a droning cry that started out high and screechy but quickly turned deep and guttural. Heavy footsteps hit the floor, and began walking toward the back room.

“Run,” the woman urged. “You have to run-”

Eric spotted a barricaded window behind the woman; he drew his gun and ran over, hammering against the plywood with the butt of his weapon as the thundering footsteps drew closer. The makeshift barricade cracked after a few hits, and Eric pried off the window and was hit with a cold gust of wind and ashen snow from outside. Fighting through this, Eric went through the opening torso first and wriggled his way through to the snowy ground outside.

“Gordon, you won’t get another one!” the woman screamed from inside. “It stops here, do you hear me? IT STOPS-”

The woman fell silent; Eric, squinting to see through the snow, crossed his arms in front of his chest and ran for an opening in the next door building. The snow and wind let up as he passed into a cold, overgrown hallway of a barren cinder block building. A loud thud came from the direction of the store, and Eric continued into the neighboring structure.

Where the shelves of the store served as a maze, so too did the walls of the neighboring building. Eric quickly lost his way among the barren, identical and vine-covered walls. Heavy footfalls came behind him, keeping pace no matter which way he turned.

Then, the voice of the broadcast woman spoke up, shakier and filled with more anger than it had been before.

“I can smell you,” it said. “From the dirt on your skin to the fear in your mind. You are absolutely RANK to my kind, and it smells-”

A light chuckle.

“-delicious.”

Eric turned a corner; a broad fist struck him hard in the chest and floored him. Coughing, Eric looked up to see a humanoid figure with translucent skin with visible veins and musculature underneath. Two angry, yellow eyes replaced brown and curious ones.

“You looked better as a baby,” Eric quipped.

Bumps formed in Gordon’s throat and shifted around, then disappeared; when the beast spoke, it spoke in Eric’s own voice.

“Make no mistake,” he warned. “You’re in my hunting ground here. You aren’t the first kind soul to respond to my wife’s plea, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“It wasn’t enough to kill and eat your neighbors, Gordon? Your friends? People that trusted you?”

“They were far from friends, just like any human. The moment they suspect any kind of difference, their looks and attitudes change. They never realized how dangerous that was until the hunger became too much to bear- they never realized that their judgment came with a price.”

“And your wife?” Eric asked. “What did she do to deserve that?”

“She tried to kill me, and stop what I was doing here. Yet, that never stopped her from taking her own share of the prizes.”

Eric’s face twisted at this.

“Now? I get the whole carcass to myself.”

Eric’s hand went for his gun; Gordon stepped on his right arm and pressed down hard, causing Eric to cry out and squirm while pinned.

“You look like you’ll last me about a day or two, but that should be fine. I’ll have the comfort of my dearly beloved when things get rough.”

Eric kicked his legs up behind him, and his free hand brushed against the heel of his boot. Quickly, he kicked again and briefly got his hand inside the boot long enough to pull the concealed knife from inside.

“May she rest in peace-”

Eric jabbed the knife into Gordon’s ankle; the shapeshifter cried out and reeled back, releasing his arm. Eric scrambled to his feet and started running back the way he came. Gordon pulled the small blade from his ankle, bleeding yellow slime, and tossed it aside.

“You can’t run from me forever!” he cried after his prey, now limping slightly as he walked. “You’ll die just like the others!”

Breathing heavy and grunting with each step, Gordon looked around with every corner he turned; he came to a corridor where the ceiling above had collapsed in, exposing collapsed support beams and rebar poles with jagged ends. Gordon stopped and sniffed at the air, smelling a sour odor in the cold air.

“There’s no point in hiding,” he taunted. “I’ll sniff you out every time.”

“Who said I was hiding?”

Gordon turned around; Eric was behind him, gun at the ready. Before he could react, a gunshot rang out and yellow slime spurted from Gordon’s torso. One shot was followed by a second, then a third, and a fourth. Each impact made Gordon wince and stagger.

Finally, on the fifth shot, Gordon teetered back.

Toward the exposed support beams and rebar poles.

Eric ducked down and charged at the disoriented Gordon, elbows forward; he slammed into the shapeshifter and toppled him completely. Gordon reeled back and screamed as three rebar poles and two support beams stabbed through his back and through to his chest. Eric recovered his balance, then looked down at the pinned and bleeding shapeshifter. Gordon let out a wry laugh as more bumps formed in his throat.

“You’re just like me,” he said in a child’s voice. “A killer just the same.”

Eric leveled his gun between Gordon’s eyes.

“Not the same,” he said. “I kill the killer.”

A sixth gunshot rang out, and the shapeshifter Gordon was dead. Eric made his way out of the neighboring building and returned to the store through the way he came, navigating through the maze of the shelves and past the spot where he’d first found the apparent baby. Before long, he was in the back with the rattling generator and ham radio. The woman from earlier was now splayed across the floor, legs nothing but stumps with fresh bruising around her neck. As Eric examined the generator, the broadcast from earlier echoed in his mind:

-anyone receiving this, please help; my son is in danger and the storm has us trapped. He’s had no food for days, and now he’s running a fever. His father went out for supplies before the snow, but we’ve not heard from him since.

Eric found a compartment on the front of the generator and opened it to find a red switch inside at the ON position.

We’re sheltered in an old world market, just outside of the Fort Knox impact crater. Somebody, anybody who can hear this; I beg of you, help us. If not for me-

Eric flipped the switch to OFF and the generator powered down.

-then for my child.