Assumptions

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Making wrong assumptions can be deadly.

Submitted: January 01, 2020

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Submitted: January 01, 2020

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Assumptions

They always do it, fall in to the same old trap brought about by false assumptions. They seem to think we are all stupid, unable to think things out, when really it’s just like with any group. Some will know nothing other than what is in front of them, while others... Let’s just say, some of us have retained the ability to think outside of the box.

It takes patience, of course; on top of the planning. But me, I’ve got plenty of patience for time is on my side, after all.

The sound of the door crashing open is my cue to get ready. There’s no other way for them to escape now, other than the fire escape. I edge my way upwards a couple of steps and lean against the wall. They won’t notice me; won’t even look until it is too late for them to make good on an escape.

I listen to the shouts and the screams, tensing up and looking at the drop to the ground. I don’t need to, not really, for I know exactly how far up the fire escape I am positioned.

Could they decide to go up? Well, I guess so, but I don’t see why. They must be aware that by now that single to from the rooftop, so they are going to have to head down to the streets below.

The fire door opens, slams shut. I can hear them on the steps now, their footsteps clanging on the metal. Three sets of steps! Boy, this is my lucky day.

Louder than their footsteps, their muffled cries and labored breathing, is the rapid beating of their hearts. Three of them, thumping in rhythm and making my hunger so great I cannot but help salivating. A drop of drool drips from my chin.

Time seems to slow down as I limber up, ready to take the downward leap. The thing with three is that there’s always going to be one in the middle, and that is who I am aiming for. At least that way, if I fall short or overshoot in my leap, I’m going to get one or other of them.

I was never quite so supple before as I am now. Or perhaps it’s that I’ve learned that I can be a bit reckless. It’s not as if I have to fear death any more. The worst consequence will be a bit more warping of an already battered body. I can live with that, especially if it means that I get to feed.

Those that are on the run always prove to be so much tastier than others. Perhaps it is the extra dose of adrenalin that acts as a spice. I don’t know, don’t much care to be honest, so long as I get to taste it.

I spring, letting my muscles release from their coiled up position, and my landing is almost perfect. The middle one is mine!

Footsteps, not so steady and sure can be heard making their way downwards. The one above me freezes for he knows there is no escape. As I take first bite, I watch him looking over the edge, frantically trying to weigh up his odds of survival. Will he jump? If he does, I might just follow him over the edge, for unlike him I’ll survive the landing.

The other is literally falling down the stairs. He’ll hit the bottom faster than he expected and there will be more than one of us waiting there for him. He might as well give up, but then he doesn’t know that... Yet!

That’s the thing though, with the false assumptions that those living make. They always think us zombies have lost our minds.

 


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