Excess 7/7/25

Another night of rest is ended as reality slams back into me with the sharp yowl of a cat.

Domestic pets were turned into scavengers after their owners were either assimilated into or consumed by The Horde. Dogs tended to roam in packs of their own across the country; shepherds, labradors and retrievers the most commonly sighted. Most smaller breeds were either picked off by other predators or lost to disease early on. Cats tended to linger around the cities and suburbs, hunting the smaller species that were lured in by the vast spread of death, or preying upon the dead themselves. Birds and rodents did as their pre-pocalypse ancestors would; fled, bred and disappeared into the background as another sign of life that granted little hope to those like me.

The forgotten ones, or the fallen ones, the dismayed faithful called us. Pastors, Preachers and other religious figures claimed it was a test, that God always tested the will and faith of Man since the beginning, but faith was hard to keep up when one’s own mother tried to make a meal out of their flesh.

Told them how she’d season it, just a pinch, for a “quick bite” and that “you wouldn’t miss it.”

Memories of a sautéed meal sprung to mind, the warmth of the kitchen caused not just by the burner atop the oven, but the laughter of family. A flash of fire cooked the air before the pan was set atop, the oil within popped and sizzled as it heated. I could smell the chicken and mushrooms even now, despite the musky aged decay of the articles I surrounded myself with.

I banished the thoughts away and quietly swallowed the spit that threatened to turn to drool. I couldn’t lose myself now, not while their hunting party was still shrieking at one another close by. A shatter of glass told me they’d entered another house, if not this one. The drum in my chest starts to pick up again, and rises as a floorboard creaks beneath me when I attempt to shift my weight.

It’s not their shrieks that make me hold my breath, but the sudden silence that pierce the air. Seconds feel like hours, a minute felt like a year, but I dared not risk breathing until I was certain they didn’t hear me. Finally, a faint wail gave me reprieve. The Horde had been quiet because they moved on.

Still, this is the closest they’ve been to me in three months. I’ve overstayed my welcome. The cans I’ve stocked up on are running low.

Tonight, I’ll have to move again.