"The Cage" by Andy Holberry

The Cage

by Andy Holberry

10 days; that's all it's been. Feels like a damn lifetime.

Even though I can't see them, I know that the bodies of my neighbors have been strung up like limp marionettes; strings cut, nailed onto the wooden telephone posts outside.

I want to open the curtain, to look outside.

But if I do that, they'll see me.

Not that it matters that much; they know I'm in here, alone.

Unarmed.

How could anybody be unarmed? Especially in nights like these?

Well, for one…this isn't my house. We were forced to take shelter as the sun started to go down.

Trust us to pick a home that had already been ransacked of every weapon, every stick of furniture.

There wasn't even as much as a potato peeler in the kitchen.

I'm vulnerable.

That's not a word that I would ever have thought about using to describe me, but, well there it is.

The time to look outside would have been before the sun started to go down.

Is it something in the makeup of the light itself that keeps them inside during daytime?

I've waited too long to find out.

They aren't there in the light; they know it hurts them. 

I don't know why.

But I still could not bring myself to see, even then when I could have.

Maybe the legends are true?

If I look, will they hypnotise me with a glance?

Who the fuck knows?

That isn't strictly true either.

Certainly they stay under cover during the day, but I can still hear them whispering inside my head every second of every day.

My fingers twitch as they inch slowly towards the drapes, so eager to know what Bill and Jane look like? 

What have they done to Marty and Jeff?

I have to make a conscious effort to stop them even as my fingertips start to grasp fabric.

****

I heard them screaming the last few nights, so they were still alive up until then at least.

Through the screams and the tearing…the snapping of bones. Through the laughter and jeering, I could hear their pleas and entreaties to a god that was no longer listening.

****

They should have rushed the house by now; taken me out into the street and torn me limb from limb, devoured me down towards my bones.

But they haven't.

Are they unable or unwilling to come inside?

Again, I don't know, and it's frustrating.

Before the power went out, we used to sit and listen to the radio that we found.

Some other guy; a survivor like us, told whoever was listening about the lights.

Beautiful pinpricks of wonderment shining in the dark like jewels in the night.

If people would only go and see these lights, then they would be saved. 

They too would see the truth.

His ramblings went on for a week until he opened a door and walked outside to see for himself.

His transmission cut off with a squeal of static that sounded like the braying snarls of wild animals.

He makes me want to see the lights  and that's the other reason why I haven't moved the heavy curtains.

I know that if I see them, then I will want to go and investigate.

But, I know it's a trap.

I know that's how ‘they' get you.

But, I'm so hungry; the last of the food we brought with us is gone; but we didn't have much time to start with.

I glance over at the body of Philipe.

I wondered, not for the first time, if I was hungry enough yet to eat him?

Would that make me as bad as those things outside?

A nice guy; seen him around a few times.

We had met up as we ran towards the house, the same idea in our minds at the time.

I had been first through the window, pushing heavy curtains aside; safe. Turning to help him through, I had seen the shadows rise up behind him.

His eyes had gone wide at my expression as he redoubled his efforts to climb through.

Our hands touched and fingers locked.

He almost made it.

Something had grabbed his waist and started to pull.

There was a tearing sound and blood had sprayed between his clenched teeth. Then his grip had gone slack, my grip the only thing stopping us both from being pulled outside.

I had heaved with all my strength, thankful for the trips to the gym. But it still felt like pulling against an immovable object…and something had to give.

That something was Philipe.

His upper body fell on top of mine as I fell back to the floor.

I could feel things falling from the huge hole where his legs and pelvis had used to be, hitting the floor with wet splats.

Pushing him away I crabbed into a far corner of the room.

****

My mouth filled with saliva as I thought about a juicy Porterhouse or succulent ribeye.

I smacked myself in the side of the head, knocking the thoughts away.

I wasn't there yet.

I'm trapped in a cage of my own devising.

Yes, I have some cheese to nibble on; some delectable meat.

But it's a cage nonetheless.

However, this cage does have a way out, but not to any freedom that I would want.

Or at least, I don't think so anyway.

The word is a relative term though; freedom.

Freedom from the struggles of life? To move on from captivity?

Would I just be trading one cage for another?

If it came to that, then I would just open the door and take a look for those lights that I know are out there.

It would mean disregarding the one rule that had kept me alive so far, the one rule that mattered;

Don't look outside after dark.