The Unfleshed (Teaser, Published Work)

Chapter 5

(NOTE: I'm not sure how many chapters I will post publicly since I will be publishing this book. However, I hope it draws you in enough that you want to learn more! I appreciate any feedback you may have!)

It had only been months since Death had come to visit their shores and with its arrival came the darkness. A plague that ravaged the citizens of the otherwise dull, grey shores of London. Ships swayed back and forth, empty on the water. Rats overtook the market and ate until their round bellies were bloated to double the sizes. Those who were left over hid in their homes and stared out through broken shutters at the devastation. The church had all but abandoned them. The few priests that remained had succumbed to heavy drinking and debauchery in public; they didn't even bother to hide it anymore. Violence rose to level of hysteria. The death toll was staggering. Seventy percent of the population was lying dead in mass graves.

The wind was louder these days. Or perhaps it was just that there was no one around. Marshall sat in the empty pub watching the door swing back and forth on a broken hinge. At first, he revelled in his newfound wealthy. He had his pick of the women in any pub he visited. All he had to do was flash his purse which hung low on his belt indicating it was heavy with coin. The more he saw when he accompanied Angus, the more withdrawn he became. He didn't know what the world was turning into but he was sure it wasn't anything he wanted to be a part of.

Angus had grown withdrawn as well. Though Marshall accompanied him on many of his visits, the new law stated that physicians would quarantined for forty days after taking care of patients with the confirmed illness. The doctor was stripped of his clothing and provided with a new, clean tunic and locked within his home. Each time Angus emerged, something was darker in him. His eyes were more cold, more distant, and more detached. He rarely spoke. He even walked differently. Marshall took another sip of his ale and rubbed his calloused hand over his face.

After the first quarantine, Angus came out of the cellar and acted as if he were a lion pent up in a cage for too long and released into the wild. He ascended the stairs leading from the cellar to his kitchen and instead of embracing the sunlight, he shied from it. Marshall waited there in silence, setting the table for breakfast. His entire staff had fled or died. Marshall was all that was left to care for him. Once a week, Paul Kingsley sent rations over to help sustain the doctor while he was locked in but it was Marshall that sat there night by night, talking through the door.

By the second quarantine, Marshall saw a rapid decline in conversations. In the weeks that Angus was free, Marshall saw him bringing crates down into the cellar and attributed it to him stockpiling for his next round. When Angus stopped talking to him after dinner, Marshall would go about daily chores, talking to himself to keep them both from going crazy. Some nights, Marshall would sit by candlelight at the table and read aloud from the books the doctor had in his library. The former merchant wasn't very book smart but he could read well. Before Death came, he had no reason to sit idle and read. There was too much work to be done with the ships.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, Angus would correct a word that Marshall had mispronounced. It would take him off guard and give him a start. When silence followed, he'd continue and some days, that would be all the communication that came from beyond the cellar door. After a week of no sound, Marshall wondered if he should go and check on Angus. Then he heard it. Pressing his ear against the door, He listened to the sounds coming from below of hammer and saw. What is he doing? Marshall thought to himself. The sounds went on deep into the night until the former merchant fell asleep on the floor.

When the morning light filtered through the window, Marshall's eyes pried themselves open. Angus' voice caused a jolt. He was right on the other side of the door.

"Breakfast?" Angus asked.

"Few moments." Marshall croaked in his morning voice.

No response.