Author: Mark Renney

Jakob had been remiss. He attempted to laugh but all he could manage was a gurgle and he spat blood onto his already bloody shirt front. He had collected fuel for the fire, dry grass and twigs and fallen branches, but he had not carried them out into the open. Instead he had built the bonfire under the oak, in the shade, where he was more comfortable.

After setting it ablaze, Jakob had drifted off almost instantly. He awoke with a start, the vermin already on him, piercing his skin with their tiny incisors. Jakob shook them off in a violent frenzy that shocked him. Was it, he wondered, already happening? But no, the vermin were done with him, had taken enough of him and were ready to back off.

They gathered at the edge of the tree line, just a few metres from Jakob. Scurrying excitedly in apprehension, waiting and watching. He had seen this many times with other victims, the vermin seemed to relish in it, taking as much nourishment and sustenance from the witnessing of it, as they would eventually when they fell and fed upon his corpse.

Jakob had been walking for weeks and he was weary. He was making excuses but they were pointless of course, but he hadn’t seen any vermin in days. He reached behind himself and grabbed his rucksack. It was filled with the medical supplies he had been tasked with collecting. Jakob pulled it close and hugged it. The excursion had been successful. Or almost.

He glanced down at his legs, the blood soaking into his jeans. He was riddled with wounds and Jakob wondered if they would be enough to kill him. Had the vermin been too greedy, over-zealous, had they taken too much from him? Would he be spared the brief but rapid and violent afterlife? But Jakob was all too aware that he was not dying, at least not yet. He could feel his strength returning despite the blood loss. Soon he would be up on his feet again, flailing and lashing out at nothing, and everything. Jakob wondered how long he would be locked in to this uncontrollable rage. He could take some solace at least in the knowledge his bones would rest here in the shade and not bleach in the sun, out on open the plain.