The Leecher

She can’t be human.

Can she?

We look alike. But her life is so different. I mean she feeds from people. But she just said she didn’t. And she’s gone now. Just like she said. She said she was going to go.

She stole my journal.

Focus, Lucy. She’s gone, focus on that. She left a letter trying to explain. She didn’t want me to be scared, I don’t think. But she seems scared. She’s sick.

She’s dying.

I have to choose what to do now. I could go after her…

I could continue on to the Refuge.

But is she really human?

She saved my life.

She makes me laugh and can actually hold an intelligent conversation with me.

But her lifestyle.

It’s different.

But is it wrong?

So she eats a little more off the top. A bite for the body and a nibble for the soul.

But then what happens to the animal…or person. Is it really the soul that goes to “heaven”.

Ha Lucy don’t get ahead of yourself, that would bring up the whole religion thing. It might not even be the soul they eat. Just the life force…like hormones or maybe neurotransmitters…God my head hurts trying to figure this out.

I don’t know what to do.

Well, maybe I do.

I should respect the fact that she left. She cares and believes in my humanity. I should do the same.

I’m going after her.

It feels right.

I’m the best hunter anyway.

I’ll save her.

I called you that the first time we met, when I saved your life. Since that day you have more than made up for it, you have even returned the favor. But that’s neither here nor there.

We’ve been travelling together for a little under a week now and I guess somehow we gained each other’s trust without really knowing what we were doing—or who we were travelling with.

You call me a Leecher…that’s not who I am.

I’m human.

…and I see now—now that I’ve stolen your journal and read it. I know it may seem a breach of privacy but I swear it wasn’t meant to be an attempt to hurt you. I just needed to know, and I guess I’ve found it—I see that you’re human, too.

You have to understand that I grew up in the “Leecher” society you say banished you to the dumps. I was taught that you weren’t human. I pictured you deformed and sick and, to my embarrassment now, with a tail. You see I was told and believed that those in the dumps were Rats.

You’re a Rat, Lucy.

To me, to my kind, you are a Rat.

But you don’t fit the bill. You’re intelligent and kind and thoughtful…and human. Like me.

I’m human, Luce.

I’m not a “Leecher”. I don’t eat people, we don’t. It’s not like that. Yes we kill when we feed but do you not? We’ve killed chickens and such on our week together, how can you say what I do is any different?

The feast, you call it, is our day of remembrance. It’s a day we remember and mourn our behavior at our ignorance to our affliction/our hunger. So many people were killed because we had no idea what was happening to our bodies. Why all of a sudden a fit 30 year old, who had never been sick in his life, had taken sick with a hunger no one could understand. And then more people started getting “infected”.

And so they fed on the easiest source they could find, other humans. It was cannibalism, what they did.

There’s a mutation in the human genome, Luce. Humans have adapted to ward off all sickness but at a cost. Our very souls are unstable inside our body. With each breath we lose a part of ourselves and with each intake we gain maybe a fraction of what is lost. At some point, we lose ourselves completely and this is the sickness. Soul Sickness.

We feed off more than just meat and grain. Our bodies need the life force behind the morsel.

The souls of our kind do not sustain us as long as other species. Humans should not feed off humans. But it happens. It is murder.

The sickened that venture into the dump, as you say, are the poor. They cannot afford a life force to feed from and take to cannibalism.

I’m not like them.

But I am so hungry. My ventilator (which I should admit is stolen) was what was keeping me alive.  I wanted to live, Luce. I didn’t want to die. So I chose the lesser of the two evils and stole a vent.

I am poor. I do not have the means to buy a life force. And so when you read this I’ll be gone. I have to be. For your sake and my sanity.

I wish I had known that my family taught me wrong. I wish we had known that we are the same—only different.

I wish I could say more,

Her skin is yellowish. And her eyes are hungry and she keeps staring at me. She looks helpless. She looks like the Leechers that come into the dump.

She’s a Leecher. A FUCKIN’ Leecher.

She fixed her mask by using parts from Jax’s. I should have been furious—I still don’t know what I feel.

I know I’m scared.

We haven’t spoken. We just look at each other. We stare as if we can’t possibly fathom that we aren’t the same.

I mean she’s so small, and yet she kills people—eats them.

She saved my life, though. But she thought I was one of her. I thought she was one of me—human.

But she still saved my life.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one sane…

I was in a rage.

I didn’t care about the pain in my feet or the bedroll I had been sleeping on…all I cared about was Harper and her thieving ways. I had to find her.

But I had no clue what it was I was going to do when I found her.

I just…I just wanted my stuff back.

I was about to march off in my search when the item I was going after was thrust at my feet. Harper had muddied my bag.

The bag was a bright orange color, Jax’s favorite, and held many memories of a time before the feast—when Jax was in High School. She said she used to fill it with papers, textbooks, and pencils instead of water and rations. She said she hadn’t thought buying a survival backpack would come in handy; she just bought it because it was her favorite color and was large enough to hold all her school junk. It was durable—and flashy.

“What’d you do!” I practically snarled at Harper while attempting to wipe off the grime.

“Saving our asses. The color is so bright I could see you and keep an eye on you a mile away. If it was that easy for me to follow you, we either ditch it or fix it. I chose the latter. You’re welcome.”

I don’t know what hurt more: seeing my sister’s possession marred with dirt or being completely understanding to what Harper was saying. Survival first. And so relenting, I left it dirt covered and we walked on.

We made it to the halfway point—just over it actually I think—without another sign of the Leechers. But of course our luck was bound to run out.

I’d never really been in a fight before, but I’m glad to know that I can hold my own now. There were only 2 of them…and they were young. Their eyes were sunken into their heads and the yellowness of their skin seemed to ripple across their face with each breath. It was sickening. It was maddening.

It was heartbreaking.

They were in pain and yet they came at us blind and needy. They were hungry.

At some point during the brawl, I ended up on my back with the bigger of the two on top of me clawing at my mask. I managed a swift knee to his stomach and a palm at his nose before scrambling away. Has he cradled his nose in his hands, I kicked him. I didn’t enjoy it, but I wanted to live. And so there I was beating up a Leecher and managing to win…my mask still intact and Leecher down for the count, in too much pain to move.

Harper wasn’t so lucky.

I had never been so close to a feed before…I was usually holed away in my fridge. But her mask was gone. Broken and tossed to the side while the smaller of the two Leechers held her down and—inhaled. Deeply inhaled.

I’m not sure what was happening, but I could tell the pain Harper was going through was unbearable. And so I barreled into the Leecher not even thinking. I was so busy punching the Leech in the face that I didn’t notice Harper scrambling for her mask. Or her becoming hysterical at seeing it broken.

When she screamed my name, my blood ran cold. I stopped my punching of the unconscious Leecher.

She was scared as she motioned to her mask. I gave her Jax’s hoping she wouldn’t mind the bulkiness of the mask. “We can try to fix it, but use Jax’s in the mean time.” I had told her.

She agreed relieved. And as we walked away she tinkered with her mask…slowing our progress even further. At least I thought it was her tinkering.

It was only later in the evening that I understood what was happening…why Harper was getting lethargic.

Yes, WE.

During my last entry I said I felt like I was being watched...I was. Her name is Harper. She’s young and spritely, probably 18 or 19—I haven’t asked. She’s so small, too…kinda like her mask. That’s how I knew she was okay—her mask. Well, after I decked her…

It was different from mine but the mask seemed to do its job well. She had no trouble busting my butt when she came upon me two nights ago. She saved my life. A 23 year old being saved by a teenager…

No shame, I’m still alive.

“Get your ass in gear, Plebian.” She all but yelled at me. She caught my arm and pulled me off the road faster then I could process what was happening. “Sitting in the middle of the ‘effin road like a fool” I had heard her mutter but I don’t think I was supposed to hear it.

Her personal filter is cute and it makes me smile now as I write, but then I was more focused on what was happening. Not a minute later, after I caught my bearing, mind you, these louts came up over the hill down the road. Their car sputtered and jerked down the road and I still can’t see how I didn’t hear them before. I guess I was too lost in thought and too tired to care.

I could have died.

They didn’t wear masks, the guys in the sputtering car. They were Leechers, I had thought in disgust. Their greased up hair and stained white v-neck shirts only disgusted me further. The guns however, those scared me.

We stayed low in the bushes of the side of the road as they passed. I remember feeling Harper’s elbow digging deep into my side we were so close. We were so scared. But they passed and I felt relief, if only for a moment.

And for the life of my I can’t understand what made me do what I did. I hit her. I hit Harper and was about to book it out of there and back to the dump when she screeched in pain.

“Remind me to never save your life again, Plebian. If this is the thanks I get I’ll just watch on like I’m at the Roman coliseum.” That’s what stopped me from running. Her joke. I hit her and she jokes.

After asking for forgiveness 100 times over, and her accepting after the first one, I managed a “Lucy or, well, Luce” (my name) and a slight wave through my mortification.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I even bothered asking why it was she was out on the road. “Probably same as you, looking for refuge.” She told me so matter of fact. As if the idea of me being a nomad were preposterous.

Though given what had happened the night before it was no wonder…but I digress.

And so I have found a travel companion. One who I can safely say is by far the strangest individual I’ve ever faced. Eh, but in my lifetime that’s not too many since the feast.

We ended up walking under the city. Harper apparently usually takes that route because it keeps her from running into anyone and it’s quicker than dodging buildings. She had me at the former but quicker sealed the deal.

I thought the dump smelled…

It was disgusting but Harper somehow managed to get us on the other side of the city in less than 2 hours. When we came up for air it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. We whipped off our masks and inhaled the fresh air. Me for longer, apparently she’s used to it.

No matter.

We walked for the rest of the day, just getting to know one another. I’ve found that she’s very adept at tracking and trapping. We caught a stray chicken from one of the farms we passed. I just hope the owners don’t come looking.

Last night we sat down and made camp at the 39-mile mark, just shy of the rate I had calculated before the trip. I wanted to try for 20 to 22 miles a day.

It might have something to do with not having walked such a distance before. My shoes can only do so much. My feet were throbbing. Are throbbing.

What I wouldn’t give for a foot massage.

But that’s alright. I’m sure by the time I reach the refuge they’ll have spas and beds and fruits. I love fruit.

Today…today was tough on my feet. We managed about 18 more miles and at this rate I’m going to have to tac on another day. But with Harper I doubt I’d mind much. It’s really nice to get to know someone new. Someone who has seen more than the dump I’ve been in for far too long. She’s alive and fresh.

 And she likes to call me Plebian. I guess Luce just wasn't her style. I don't mind the nickname though. It reminds me of how we met and that I'll forever be in her debt...and hopefully her food.

I’m writing this on the side of the road 5 miles outside of the closest town to the dump. I’m stopping for the night because I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t know what to do. Should I attempt to go around? Should I walk straight through? Maybe take off my mask…but that, I really don’t feel comfortable doing. God, where’s Jax when you need her. She was always better at the decision-making aspect of the two of us.

Jax, my sister. Her name is really Jessica but when I was little I couldn't pronounce Jessica correctly and it came out Jax-e-kuh. Which was shortened to Jax fairly quickly. I've called her that ever since.

I miss her. I hope I see her.

I hope she’s at the refugee camp.

It's only been a day since I’ve left and I haven't walked very far. It’s a lot slower going than I thought it would be. I didn’t bring enough provisions if I continue at this pace. Especially if I try to go around the town. But I'm not really sure where I'm going.  Nor do I have any idea that I’m actually headed in the right direction. I just hope north is really all I need to do.

We shall see won’t we?

I still have my mask on. If the Leechers have to rip them off to feed, it might be best to leave it on. I brought Jax’s old one. I don’t know why. Sometimes I get these feelings and…well I’ve learned to listen to them.

Okay, I feel strange writing this but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I feel like if I write it they, whoever they are, will know and something will happen. I’m scared. I should have never left on my own, but two humans is harder to steal away than one.

But that’s all for nothing if I get found out the first day.

I hope it’s nothing.

They seem to leave children alone.

And Joe and Lenny for some odd reason. The fair-skinned, old geezers live at the entrance of the dump like a set of fools…but the leechers just walk on past.

They’re disturbed. The leechers I mean. They’re human but they have this look in their eyes that says they’ll do anything for the feed. They seem sick. In the head. In the body. Almost as if down to their soul.

But they came again and I don’t know how much more I can take. I’ve been fighting for my life since I was 14. That’s not living.

I heard rumors earlier in the month about a refugee camp 85 miles or so north of here. That’s at least a 4 day walk. I could do it though. I could walk 85 miles but it’s just a rumor. Who’s to say there is actually anyone out there? Who’s to say there really is a refuge for humans?

There’s so much between here and there. I haven’t been outside the dump in years.

I might get lost. I could get a map.

I might get cold or hungry. I could take some supplies and I’ve always been one of the better hunters here.

I might get lonely. But aren’t I already. After Jax left it’s just been me.

I should have gone with her before. I wasn’t old enough. I was a coward.

She could be there now. Maybe she made it.

I think I’ll go.

I have a lot of preparation to do.

I found the thing rusted over and the back completely blown out. There was a padlock on the front as if to keep out unwanted people. But the back was blown out and I already cut the lock off and it made for a great, lockable, doorway.

I use it as such anyway—locking it every time I venture out. It’s inconspicuous just barely poking out of a massive pile of trash. My trash. I hollowed out the pile, built a cave. It’s dark but it’s safe.

Safe enough.

It masks my smell. Or maybe it has been so long that now it is how I smell. Rotten. Aged. Spoiled.

After the first few years of all the humans pushing towards the dumps, it became apparent that the stench in the air didn’t just smell bad. Everyone was getting sick and so groups went out in search of something to help the sickness.

Only a couple of groups made it back. Only one group holding hope in their arms.

If you don’t have a mask you’re one of them, a Leecher. It’s the biggest difference between us and them. A mask.

I have two now…

But this isn't Gotham City. And no madman with a billion dollars traipses through our streets in costume and cape. No man does. I can't raise my wrist and stop the nightmare. I'd be dead before I'd even think of it.

Plus, with no one but those damn Leechers on the streets now...who is there to save?

Every human has been pushed to the dumps. It's the only place of "security" We seemed to find. The stench from our past masks us and keeps the Leechers at bay.

Mostly.

They still come. They're still hungry. And so we hide.

LIKE COWARDS