Alternia Comics

Day Twelve

A couple hours in to the drive Lisa had to pull over. Because of me. I don't remember it, but she said I was staring at her with a vacant, hungry expression in my eyes and I wasn't responding to her questions. She lost control of the car when I jumped at her, barely restrained by the seat belt. She took her hands off the wheel to hold me back and eventually had the presence of mind to stomp the brake pedal, knocking me forward. Apparently I hit my head on the dashboard hard enough to knock me out and Lisa dragged me from the car. I can't remember any of that. All I remember is feeling at ease, finally. A calm, tranquil wave washed over my thoughts while we were driving. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew I was outside the car, pawing at the locked passenger-side door with Lisa behind the wheel, looking frightened and ready to hit the gas and leave me behind.

I wouldn't blame her, and told her as much when she unlocked the door.

I've come to terms with it, I think. This curse. Being a monster. I watched the old zombie movies with everyone else, but I never expected to become one. Now I have to find a way to master the Hunger. I asked Lisa if she wanted to go on without me, maybe we'd catch up later on. She looked at me like someone might look at a rabid puppy, like she wanted to stay and help, like she thought it wasn't my fault I wanted to sink my teeth into her flesh and gulp down mouthfuls of her succulent muscle and tender organs.

She's sleeping now, inside the car, with the doors locked. Just in case. I have only my journal and a
[This page and the next are stained with small drops of what appear to be blood. -ed.]
Someone just stuck a knife in my back. That was a new and interesting sensation. If I were still alive, it surely would have killed me, ripping through my skin and sinking between two ribs and into my heart. I jumped in surprise, wrenching the knife out of his hand, and kicked out behind me, where I thought he was. He was staggered by the blow; I think I hit him in the chest. I turned and when he lunged at me again I used his momentum against him, turning his run in to a throw. By the book he should have landed at or near my feet. Instead he cleared the camp fire and landed a good 15 feet from me, unconscious. I bound his hands and feet with my belt and his. We'll see what Lisa wants to do with him in the morning.

[From the content of the next two entries, I assume the shaky penmanship is due to Ian writing while riding in the car. The last entry for Day Thirteen sees the return of his normal handwriting, presumably written after they had stopped for the night. -ed.]

Day Thirteen - 10AM (approx)

He says his name is Charlie and that he attacked me because he wanted to steal my car to get back to his family in Arizona. I think we're somewhere in Montana now. Lisa agreed to give him a lift, but I don't trust him. He's riding up front with Lisa, so I'm in the backseat. Ironically, I'm surrounded by the food Lisa brought with her for the trip. Starving among plenty.

Day Thirteen - Afternoon

While Lisa and Charlie talk, I'm focusing on my journal to keep the Hunger in check while I get used to the new scents of Charlie. Something in me wants him to try something, to try to kill me again, or Lisa, so I'll have an excuse to break his neck and sate the Hunger.

Has it really been two weeks already? Two weeks since I lost Sarah and Angela. Two weeks and a couple thousand miles.

And a few corpses.

We're heading South now. I guess Lisa wasn't set on California after all. Or she wants to get rid of Charlie quickly.

Day Thirteen - Night

Lisa's sleeping in the car again, with me and Charlie locked out. He's in a sleeping bag near the fire. I'm alone with my thoughts. And the Hunger. I can't see the cut in my back, but Lisa says it's not bad, for me. She pulled it out in the morning and dressed the wound, though it only bled a little and I couldn't feel any pain, before unbinding Charlie and hearing his story.

I have to fight something other than the Hunger now. I keep looking at Charlie and thinking how easy it would be to arrange an accident. I could tell Lisa I was away from camp, practicing forms and meditating, and when I returned Charlie had burned to death; he must have rolled too close to the fire, or an errant spark set his sleeping bag ablaze.

I wasn't a violent man two weeks ago. I didn't think about killing people I'd just met. What in hell is happening to me?