The Following (word count: 3710)

Dear Charley,

We haven’t spoken in some time, brother. Are you taking care of yourself? How is home? I know you were close with them, more than I was, I promise I did try to connect, I did. I sent letters, I’ve called and requested to visit. I’ve mourned too, brother. I didn’t leave to provoke aggravation. My objective was not to split more loose ends with them, I wanted a change of scenery and a career. Landscaping is much more than I originally thought, but I am doing well.

You have no obligation, you know, you can roam; explore, create, learn. Have you painted since their passing? I surely hope you aren’t dissipating away to dust over there. You have an enchanting way with a paintbrush and I would love to see the masterpieces you’ve created in absence of family connection. I still have the butterfly garden you painted for me when we were kids. I hung it proudly on the mantel above my fireplace.

I realize this may be a long shot but I wish to see you again. I offer you a stay at my place for however long; duration of your choice. France is home to many artists and I’m sure you would find infinite inspiration.

To reiterate my greetings, I hope all is well and you’re in good health. My offer stands for as long as you have life. My address is located on the envelope of this letter, as any would be.

I hope to see or hear from you soon.

Your sister,

Cai Redbrand

Charley dropped the letter he’d retrieved from his mailbox the night before to the kitchen table. His eyes darted around the room considering his options. She had been right, he had no obligation to stay, he had no means of inspiration out here. One person left in their small family was offering him a way out. Away from his sickly routine of waking on his couch still clutching a beer in his left hand, the tv blaring - much to his neighbors’ disdain - to drown out any thought process his lonesome would provoke. He would eventually peel himself off the couch to add to his pieces he’d set up in his bedroom; he never slept in there anyway. Keeping to his position on his sunken couch. Charley knew his ways of dealing with his family’s deaths were not as sound as he thinks. Cai and Charley’s parents and older brother had passed away in a car accident the past spring.

Rather than self- wallowing in his mourning any further, he decides to take Cai up on her offer. He wants to continue with his life.

The artist gulped down the remainder of his beer all while turning and traveling the short distance to his bedroom, where thirteen canvases were sprawled out around the area. Almost tearing the drawers off of his dresser, he reached down and grabbed three or four outfits and tossed them to the floor. Charley then turned to his closet where he pulled his tote bag off the top shelf and proceeded to stuff the previously tossed items into the openings of the bag.

He surveyed the canvasses he would be leaving behind. The painting that depicted a monarch butterfly resting on the rope of a wooden swing which was attached to a giant Oak tree in a shamrock grass field kept his gaze fixed to it for a few minutes. Charley audibly sighed and bent to attain the tarp he kept under his bed for painting purposes. He wrapped the canvass in the sheet of thin plastic and with care, tucked it away in his carry-on. Confident in all he was bringing, he glanced at the bedside alarm o’clock that read: 7:18 A.M. If he left now, he could make it to France between 7:00 P.M - 10:00 P.M.

Charley bid his former room goodbye and shut the door respectively. He gently stowed the envelope in one of the pockets of his bag. When he reached the living room he unplugged the television from the wall, grabbed the container of gas for his boat, which lay beside the couch, then advanced towards the front door. With a twist of his wrist, Charley left his apartment, a blithe smile crossing his features for the first time in months. The pier was not far from his dwelling, just two blocks left and one down. The pier was connected to a boardwalk which led to a small beach on the left side. He’d parked his boat there in the early summer and now nearing autumn, he only used it once to fish. The boat had been reborn for a new purpose.

Being close to 7:30 in the morning, Charley didn't expect the neighborhood to be bustling with a total abundance of energy, but he didn't expect total silence either. It was Sunday morning and the church didn't start until 10:00, but even with that in mind, there were a ton of children on his block, and usually by 7:00, Charley would hear them running about and laughing with their friends.

Once Charley reached the dock, he pulled the canopy off his motorboat and hooked up the hose from his Jerrycan to the motor at the stern of the boat. He filled the gas tank until it was 90 percent full and tightened the gas cap. Glancing back to the beach contemplating his decision once more and grinning, when something caught his eye. On the far side of the beach, a woman sat with her legs laid out in front of her. She sat rigidly and upon closer evaluation, Charley noticed a pool of red circling her, her arms on either side reaching into the reddest sea he’d ever seen. The woman dragged her hands upward to her face and bit into a scarlet object she’d held out in front of her for a millisecond. Charley’s mind began racing. For a moment he thought she was feasting on raw Fauna, but then she lifted an undoubtedly, human head.

This had to be a prank. A hallucination. Had to be. He thought. But, she is staring right at me. Her gaze was piercing and unyielding. He couldn’t see her face, but his senses felt as if they were going haywire. He always thought he’d have a fight response rather than flight, but without further consideration, he hurriedly threw his bag to the bow of the boat. As swiftly as a single motion, he unhooked the Jerrycan, he couldn’t be bothered to unscrew the hose, and all but chucked the can into the boat. Charley untied the ropes from the dock as quickly as humanly possible. He was rushing, that much was obvious, but he didn’t want to be this possible cannibal's next meal.

He ungracefully yanked the pull cord on the side of the motor. The engine roared to life with a jump, taking off into the North Atlantic Ocean. At a distance he deemed safe enough away from the shore, he turned back with uncertainty, hoping the scene that unfolded just minutes before was a mind trick. The barren beach is subdued to a dull shadow provided by the Oak trees blocking the entry of sunlight. Even with the lack of luminosity, the blanket of red on the uneven sand was visible to the human eye. There was a patch of red, not so vivid as he was a good distance away, but no lady.

Charley shivered in disgust at the idea that another person would do such an unspeakable thing to another human being; if this … thing was human. He brought his attention back to the ocean in front of him and focused on reminding himself of why he’d embarked on this journey in the first place. Pursuing his calling to a paintbrush, reuniting with his final family member, and try to continue living. This was his mental salvation. He wondered if what he witnessed was similar to that of a mirage due to his instability. Though, there are many things wrong with that assumption, mainly because he did not reside in the boiling heat of a desert area.

Determined to push it to the back of his mind, for the time being, he chalked it up to lack of sleep and stared straight ahead, compass in hand.

Seven hours into the lengthy ride, Charley cut the engine and reconnected the hose from the gas can to the tank, and refilled the canister once again to ninety percent. The boat floated idly as the water around it settled from the aggressive ripples the engine aggravated.

Without warning the boat teetered on either side like a tug of war. Each side dipped swiftly into the water once, then twice. There was water rapidly intruding from the disturbance and then, as fast as it began, it ended. A couple of inches of water sloshing around beneath his feet. Charley’s eyes were fixed at the floor of the boat, panic evident on his face. This boat would not survive a shark attack. The artist had not planned this with any possibility of failure. His foolishness inevitably came back to bite him. He kept still, willing for whatever it was to give up and turn away. However, that was not the case, as the boat tipped to the left once more and weight was added to the bow. Charley finally looked up and what he saw, he couldn’t believe it. The woman he’d seen at the beach back home was sitting motionless opposite to him. She was staring at the man with a steady eye, a look a predator would wield while stalking their prey.

He broke out into a cold sweat, feeling like an ice statue, staring into her terrifying gaze. He was locked in place. The only weapon of defense Charley had was the oars kept on either side of his boat. He reached down to his right and tightly grasped the oar without breaking eye contact. Trepidly raising the oar with a shaky hand he crossed the wood over his chest like a shield.

It’s not possible. A human couldn’t survive more than three minutes without oxygen. How is she alive?... let alone how she even followed me. The boat is significantly faster than any person could realistically swim. Not to mention all the wonders that lay in the water below.

“What are you?” Charley questioned warily, trying to sound intimidating enough to provoke an answer. He eyed her, this woman was Asian and looked to be about 19 years of age. She didn’t react in the slightest, his words entered one ear and left through the other.

When he realized he wasn’t going to extract any response, he stood up unsteadily and waded a couple of steps through the liquid at his feet to the next bench ahead. The Asian lady followed him with her eyes without moving. The fear and adrenaline rose higher in his chest as he moved closer. Charley swung his legs over the bench and seated himself down on the cold metal.

“I’m gonna ask again, what. are. you?” Still no reaction. He wanted to push her overboard and hightail it out of there, but if there was even a chance that this thing wasn’t human, he wasn’t going to risk it. The water was cold at his feet and he thanked the heavens that his tote bag hadn’t disappeared over the edge during the rocking. He was glad he wasn’t planning on eating today or he probably would have upchucked the remnants all over the boat the first time he saw her. Although he hadn’t anticipated the water, in retrospect he probably should have if an ocean was any indication that he might encounter some water, he knew for sure he wouldn’t have appreciated the smell that vomit would provide.

As soon as he let his guard down, she saw it as her advantage. One second of Charley not paying attention, had him almost bent in half by the metal seat of the vessel. The woman had pounced on him. The viciousness of her face alone was enough to almost make him want new pants. Her jaw snapped with determination to rip or tear at him like an overdone steak.

He eventually managed to get one arm free and used it to shove her with all the strength he could muster. This sent her onto her side and gave him time to scramble to his feet. The boat wrestled with the water as they fought and Charley thought for sure that it would capsize.

He wished to not be torn to shreds as she had with her previous conquest. Charley would insist upon reigning in on her feasting habits at least until he got a hold of something other than a wooden oar to render this odious creature harmless. She was exhibiting primitive behavior to that of a zombie. This was certainly not what he expected freedom to be like. Not at all.

Charley took in the image of the mysterious stranger, her eyes seemed dead, no sign of life to be found in them, no recognition of her surroundings, like her focus, just ceased to exist. The woman, albeit still damp from her previous ventures in the deep blue, looked as if she’d suffered a terrible skin rash that presented her skin as a dry flaky texture. Her clothes were no longer visibly clinging to her body but still wet enough to see from a distance.

She was the epitome of rabid. A menacing look cased her face and whether or not she had a brain, the woman was aiming for intimidation at the least.

The creature recovered and started at him again. Charley raised the oar above his head; the sound of it whipped through the air and came ramming into the side of her head. A percussive clack sounded in the still air after the monstrous being toppled overboard with a hefty splash.

Deciding not to stick around to see if she would follow, Charley raced over to the motor and yanked the pull cord. The boat trekked on, the engine humming and sending vibrations through the small metal vessel. The fear of the mute creature pent up inside as he slowly descended to his designated seat at the stern of the vessel. Charley jacked the speed up and the boat took off in the direction of what should be shore.

The sun had eventually gone down, but even with the lack of luminescence, he forced his eyes to stay open. This proved a hard feat when he realized that he was more tired than he thought. He was grateful the moon shone big and bright that night or he would’ve found himself stranded.

The rest of the ride was admittedly peaceful. Charley attempted to wrest away any memory of the monster that’d stalked him the majority of the ride. The burning adrenaline had rapidly dissipated once he arrived to shore. He had as much energy to anchor his boat to the dock lethargically. Immediately after doing so, he sank haphazardly to the white sand that lay on the beach. Charley’s knees dug into the dusty ground and with a less than an audible sigh, face planted with a thud.

The movement caused the sand to rise with a poof and aggravate the cavities of his face. Sand infiltrated his nostrils and mouth, startling him to push himself up off the ground before him and sputter. Mentally, he scolded himself for his idiocy. What’d ya think was gonna happen Charles. He put aside his thoughts in favor of accomplishing what he’d come there to do. This restart was well past overdue.

There were lights along the beginnings of the beach, past where the tides would reach. Charley stood with purpose and taking a look down at himself, he realized he shouldn’t show up at Cai’s door looking like The Sandman. He shook his head ruefully as he batted at his clothing. Satisfied with the lack of sand now presented on his person, Charley reached for his duffel bag, rummaged through it until he found what he’d been looking for, then swiftly swung the bag over his shoulder with ease. Charley began to ample ahead and took in the new sights in front of him. A white oak boardwalk reached across the beach and ended on each side where pine trees continued into long trunked pine trees. After the long ride he had, he walked with a stumble. Charley had grown accustomed to his newfound sea legs, to the point where, on the ground, he still felt as if he was on the water.

His mind came back to the ride and his encounter. To add insult to injury, I'm hallucinating. Of course, I am. I am going insane. Do you want monsters, Charles? Go watch a horror movie. What is wrong with you? Charley shook his head deprecatingly and trudged on. He crossed the boardwalk with a little more ambition than before, eager to reunite with Cai. The artist looked down at the envelope again. He didn't think this through. He needed directions.

The city of Marseilles was a beautiful one, but he thought there would be more noise. When he ventured down the streets of the big city, there’d been no noise, not even a murmur of engines as cars drove by. The cars were idle. Some even left on while unattended.

It was then that the panic was resurrected and came back more prominent than before. What happened here? This was a highly populated city and there was no one in sight. Charley kept walking down what should've been the busiest street in the area.

After a few minutes of walking around in confusion and panic, Charley came across a kiosk next to a bus stand. He jogged over to it and read the screen, it read:

Veuillez choisir votre langue.

Beneath the first sentence, the kiosk listed a wide variety of languages. He hurriedly clicked on the green button reading English.

This Kiosk aids tourists in finding any landmarks and/or services.

Press OK to proceed to a map of Marseilles

Charley pressed "OK" and the screen loaded to a map with a key stating the landmarks and so forth. At the top right corner of the screen, there was a search bar. He took the envelope from where he’d stuffed it in his pocket and typed out his sister’s address. A red dot showed where he stood and a blue line continued from him to the destination. He followed the line with his finger and tried to commit the blocks and turns to memory. Charley needed to go five down and two streets to the left.

Charley shoved the letter back into his pocket, gripped tighter on his carry-on, and began to jog. He made it to three blocks from his destination before he heard a loud crash come from a store to his right. His feet came to a hesitant stop and he faced the direction of the first sound he heard since he’d arrived there. Charley walked over apprehensive and peered into the store. The store looked as if it’d been raided and there was no one inside.

Then a face appeared screaming and smacked at the glass door. Charley startled away from the store and ran. He ran the entire way to his sister’s place, not even bothering to stop. He just wanted to stay inside and let whatever’s happening blow over.

By the time Charley reached Cai’s front door, he was gasping for air. His habits hadn’t done much good for his physical health that was for sure. Charley raised his hand to knock but stopped when he realized the door was splintered by the handle and lock. Bile rose in his throat as he pushed through the entrance. He knew nothing was normal, but up until that moment he’d held onto the hope that his sister would be alright.

He reached for the light switch and once he found it, he wished he hadn’t.

Cai was bent over the couch soaking in a pool of her own blood. Her head hung from the side of the couch along with her left leg. Cai’s stomach and part of her neck looked like she’d lost a fight with a hellhound. Her intestines falling out of her stomach like the organs were hell-bent on deporting from her body. Most of the blood resided on the floor, but more than enough of it followed the line of her body on the furniture.

Charley didn't have time to go anywhere near her, not like he wanted to anyway. At that moment he heard rustling coming from the second floor. He hustled to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find, which happened to be a butcher knife. Cautiously tiptoeing up the stairs opposite to the kitchen, he gripped the knife tight in his hand until his knuckles were white. Once he reached the second landing, he shuffled himself silently against the wall. The rustling sounded again in the room to the right of him. Upon entering, the rustling stopped abruptly. Charley glanced around in the massive bedroom for any sign of movement with no success. He readied his knife for defense and advanced to the closet across the room, where he thought he heard the sound coming from. He stopped at the closet and looked in. There was a flash of movement and suddenly he was on the ground. A searing pain sparked up in his throat. He tried to breathe, but his airway felt clogged. Despite the paralyzing pain, Charley strained to lift his head and his vision came to meet the pale face of a bloody man. He was being eaten alive. Charley made a move to raise his knife and counterattack his attacker, but the cannibal was too strong. The monster threw Charley’s head back against the wood floorboards causing an ear-splitting crack to resound in his head. His head pulled from side to side as he felt himself being torn apart. Finally, he gave into unconsciousness.