Sustenance

John was glad the long night was finally over. Pulling a double shift is never fun, but he needed the overtime. He walked into the parking garage, and remotely unlocked the only car in sight. As he opened the door, he heard someone call his name. Looking around, he saw no one. Thinking he needed to get some sleep, he sat down in the driver's seat. He heard it again. It came from behind him, and it was louder this time. He turned around and stuck his head out the door to see who it was. Pain engulfed his skull as it was slammed between the door and the frame of the car. He thought his head was going to burst like a grape from the pressure. Just as the thought entered his mind, the pressure was gone. John drifted into blackness.

John awoke to the sound of a dripping faucet. An overflowing bucket caught each drop and accentuated the sound. He had a pounding headache, and the water was tortuous, as was the flickering fluorescent light overhead. His arms were handcuffed to a pipe. "What in the hell is going on?" he questioned. The room smelled like a portable toilet at a music festival. It hurt to open his eyes, but he tried to scan the room with a squint. The block walls were an institutional sage in color, and looked like they had not been cleaned in a while. He could make out what looked like an operating table, but he could not be sure. There was something in the corner, but it was in a shadow. It was a dark pile of something, but he could not ascertain what it was. Just then, all of the light bulbs flickered on momentarily. The unknown object was illuminated briefly before a couple bulbs faded. Terror replaced the throbbing in his skull.

He tried to break free from the pipe, but it was no use. The sound of the handcuffs clanging on the pipe reverberated around the room. He started to cry. John could not remember the last time he had cried. "You should not cry my child," a shrill voice told him. "You are about to be part of something great!" the stranger proclaimed. John froze as the illuminated pile flashed in his mind. "Please don't kill me!" he begged. The bony fingers of the stranger caressed his face. John added to the unpleasantness in the air. The hand squeezed his cheeks, as if he were a chubby baby. Tears streamed down his face, but he did not make a sound. The stranger's breath smelled of death, as John felt a tongue enter his ear. He screamed. Claw-like nails tore at his lips. He struggled, but it was useless. The stranger looked to the ceiling with arms raised, and began praying in a language not of this world. John's heart was now pounding and skipping beats. He prayed for a heart attack, but no such luck.

He felt teeth tear into his neck. He screamed again. The stranger gnawed off a chunk of flesh and devoured it. Blood poured down John's chest, as the fiend began chewing the meat from his fingers. "Mommy!" John cried. A knife pierced his belly, and he could feel a hand searching under his ribs. His still-beating heart was ripped from the wound. The old man grinned from ear to ear as he pulled the prize out of his sacrifice. He threw it into the pile in the corner. After feverishly licking the blood from his hands, he fed from John's abdominal wound. He would live another day.