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That night we camped under the bleached white skeleton of an Orca Whale. The campfire lit up the inside of its ribcage, reminding me of a scene in Pitch Black with Vin Diesel. Okay ... only the huge skeleton thing was similar. The monsters we faced were completely different to those Vin battled. In Pitch Black, almost everybody died a horrible death. Would that be the case here?
Wolf and his men seemed to be more on edge than usual, probably haunted by the memory of the family and the men that were killed in the vicinity, a few months earlier. It was pathetic if you asked me. They were dead. Time to move on.
The cruel thought shocked me. It wasn't like me to think like that. There were so many unfamiliar emotions running through me. I didn't know what to do with them. The only thing I did know for sure was that I had to keep a lid on them. The last thing I needed was to lose it. I also didn't think my going looney-tunes would go down well with my family and the rest of Wolf's team. My mother had never been particularly tolerant of any sort of hysterics. I remember receiving a firm slap the one and only time I got hysterical as a teenager. It was a sobering experience.
An overwhelming urge for raw steak gnawed at my stomach, which was strange, I'd never had a taste for raw meat before. I'd been a vegetarian before the solar flares, and now all we had to eat were army ration packs that contained things like powdered eggs, which had to be mixed with water to be edible. James loved them. Me - not so much. Although I did enjoy the chocolate, but even the sweet milk chocolate didn't sit well in my stomach. The only food my stomach seemed to want was meat, preferably raw and of that, there was a sad shortage.
I smelt the sweet tang of blood and caught myself sniffing the air like Czar sometimes did. I had to know where it was coming from. I followed my nose to the other side of the camp-site, where some of Wolf's men were competing to see who was the fastest and most accurate with a knife, by plunging it between each of their fingers and seeing how fast they could do it. I'd only seen it done in movies, never in person. One of them had lousy aim and managed to slice his hand open. A trickle of blood dribbled down the side of his hand and dripped onto the sand. I so badly wanted to bite it, lick up the blood and taste his flesh. I closed my eyes and savoured the smell of his blood and imagined what he would taste like. Licking my lips, I made my way towards him. The closer I got the better the blood smelt, and the hungrier I felt. I was starving. I had to taste him. Just one little bite wouldn't hurt.
“Max!” Wolf called from the other side of the camp, where I'd come from a few moments before.
“Evening Ma'am,” the soldier with the appetising hand said. “Where'd you just come from?” His accent was American, probably Texan.
“Just over there,” I said, gesturing to where Wolf was standing. He looked surprised at the distance I'd covered without him noticing. “You should take care of that cut. It looks ta ... nasty.” The confused expression on his face as I scampered off was priceless. The hunger I felt for his flesh shocked and scared me. What was I turning into? Was I a cannibal?
“What were you doing over there?” Wolf asked once I'd reached him.
“They were playing a knife game. I wanted to watch.” I grinned, trying to cover the guilt and fear.
“Did you learn anything from the experience?” He asked.
“They're slow and clumsy. I think I could do it better.”
“Really?” He didn't look too happy about my criticism of his men. “Would you like to try it?”
“Yes.” My reply surprised both of us.
“Okay ... Have you ever tried it before?” He asked as we walked back towards the men playing with their knives.
“No,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. My fear and guilt quickly forgotten. That should have scared me even more, but it didn't. I didn't care as much as I once did. It was strangely liberating. All standard societal conventions were disappearing from my conscience. Not much of a loss, if you asked me.
The soldiers looked up as we approached.
“Captain.” The appetiser acknowledged his commanding officer.
“Private,” Wolf nodded in his direction. “Been a bit clumsy I see.”
“Yes, sir. Got distracted by Johnson talking about his girl waiting back at the base.” I didn't hear anything else he said. The smell of his blood distracted and overwhelmed me. A knife was placed in my hand.
“You're up,” Wolf said with a challenge in his eyes. I would enjoy wiping the smirk off his face. Gripping the knife, I spread my fingers open on the camping table the men had set up. There were already deep cuts, like claw marks, in the tabletop from where the tip of the blade had penetrated. The blade flashed as I stabbed it between my fingers. It moved faster and faster. I tried to ignore the smell of blood and the beating of my own heart thundering in my ears. I tuned out the excited cheering from Wolf and the soldiers. All I saw were my fingers and the knife. Everything else disappeared.
“What the devil do you think you're doing?” James's angry voice penetrated my concentration, and I promptly cut myself. My blood smelt different to the Privates, mine was more metallic. It looked thicker and coagulated faster. I looked up at James, hoping he hadn't noticed the cut on my hand.
“What? We were just having some fun,” I said, hiding my hand behind my back. I silently pleaded with James.
“Let me see.” James held out his hand, demanding to see the hand I'd injured. “Maxine, show me your hand,” he demanded again when I didn't produce my bleeding limb the first time around.
“It's nothing,” I said as I put my hand out. “It's your fault you know. If you hadn't distracted me this wouldn't have happened.”
“Are you sure you just did this now?” James asked with an unsure tone I hadn't heard in his voice before.
“Yes, why?” I examined the look on his face. The frown was worrying.
“This looks like it’s a few hours old and is showing signs of infection. It doesn't look right. We're going to have to clean it properly and keep an eye on it.” Casting a glance in Wolf's direction. “Is this your idea of looking after her?”
“She said she could do it better than Private Roberts and as it turns out, she was right. Right up until you showed up, she was putting all these guys to shame. I wouldn't have been able to do it better. You should be proud. I am.” Wolf smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder. I was tempted to throw off the patronising hand; I was also tempted to bite it. The thought of tasting his flesh sent a warm tingle throughout my body. A hot blush crept up from my chest and up my throat.
“I am proud of her. She doesn't need to prove anything to me, and she shouldn't need to prove anything to you,” James said as he examined and prodded my hand, which he still held in a firm, vice-like grip. I wasn't getting my hand back any time soon.
“How are you feeling? Any nausea or headaches?”
“Not really,” I said, sounding unsure in my own ears. “Why?”
“No reason. Just making sure you're not experiencing any side effects from the radiation medication.”
“I'm fine. Really I am.”
“You know what fine stands for, right?” Wolf asked, his hand resting on my shoulder. The temptation to bite his hand was hard to resist. Wanting to rip out his throat was strangely similar to wanting to rip off his clothes. Maybe I was just getting kinky in my old age ...
“Yes. That's an old one. I'm naturally freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. It's not a new state of affairs,” I said with a smile I hoped they didn't notice was nervous or shaky.
“But you have been taking the radiation medication, right?” James asked while he disinfected the cut. I barely felt the sting from the antiseptic. It should have stung like the devil, right? But there was hardly any sensation in my hand. Even the pressure from James's grip on my hand was almost non-existent now.
“Of course! I'm not stupid. I know what will happen if I don't.” I'd been taking the pills religiously. I was changing. I couldn't deny it anymore, and soon those changes would be evident to everybody around me. The only question was why? What was wrong with me?