Deadhead [May Submission]
He awoke, his flesh had melted into part of the series of towels and blankets, not even a nose remained to breathe out of, he began to suffocate. His hands only served to smear around skin and displace more of his body. Springing up he began to scream as his bones displaced, bubbles of bloody flesh peppered his face as he struggled to breathe, he tore and tore, digging to find his eyes whose prison would be torn out from to reveal the secluded alleyway he had found respite in. As he could see his hands took form, looking at the reflections of shattered glass he could see his body congealed in a semisolid form. He could only stare at the monster before himself before his mind flooded with what he had looked like before he slept, for once he had looked normal. The flesh began to reassemble back to his memories. With each breath a small return to normalcy. Stress and pain would be killers.
Deep breaths followed as he looked around, a cheap phone, a wallet with a few hundred dollars, and a letter on the ground along with a box. It was in pristine condition, a wax seal adorned the note and it was addressed to him. He picked it up and read it:
To Basil H
Thank you for participating in IRISco's Deadhead medication trial. With your cooperation we hope you can continue your new start. Now we wish to continue with regular doses beyond the activation pill. Deadhead serves to grant rapid healing and pain relief through purging of unhealthy cells and rapid regrowth. This is a constant process and requires a pill every seventy two hours to prevent ill side effects. Should you refuse please leave the box in place, the effects of the initial treatment should wear off soon, your body will return to its natural state.
If you wish to continue in the box you will find a year's supply of medication. You will also find a journal, pen, and a stipend. Each week call the number on the first page of the journal and report abnormalities of the previous week. If in our observations we find reason to cut you off from the trial all materials aside from the stipend money will be returned to IRISco.
Looking over it there wasn't any other option, if he still had his face from before the medicine he would be caught. It was already on news channels and plastered online. He took the stuff from the box. Scoured for a backpack and headed off. With a message days later he went to his casting call he had to rush across LA. The city was far larger, more dangerous, and filled with more police than when he had dealt with before. His mind lingered, the stress and panic flowed into him causing random spasms of skin. Warping and melding before deep long breaths. He had the pills, his face had changed, he had a new name. It was time to live out his dream.
The days leading up to the casting call he could hear the news reports. A man with a distinctly horrid visage. Wanted for murder, cannibalism, and much worse. The fury of the only victim to escape, tears in the eyes of the killer's mother. Basil could feel his skin occasionally popping and shifting. That face, burned with acid and bruised with abuse, it was a story he knew all too well, one he was now coming to act for.
He steeled his nerves the best he could when he came to the casting, he was relieved that so few showed up. Perhaps how rushed development was going to be and that with a national tragedy so new on the mind few wanted to be part of it. The director he met the other day by chance greeted him after the others had gone.
"Alright Preston, glad you could make it on short notice. Here is a page with your lines for Basil and Logan. Laura over there is the actress for May. Take a few minutes to go over the lines and I will watch you two after I take this call." He paused. " You said you can do your makeup and special effects right?"
"Yes, I guess I only really could do it for one of the roles. since time is limited."
"Alright there is a small booth over there, show me what you can do with a few minutes."
Basil went to the makeup booth, he looked in the mirror and took a few breaths. He began to sift over his skin and move it. Taking a second he looked up an article about himself with a photograph. He stared intensely at it. He watched as his old visage consumed him in the mirror, he wanted to scream but knew he couldn't. This was his chance to live out his true dream. He then began to recall how he looked after the night he was stabbed. When all hope seemed lost a guardian angel offered him the miracle pill he had a new life and wasn’t going to throw it away. Now once more his visage changed, he could only smile now. Back and forth he controlled it. He exited the booth.
He approached Sarah. She looked up from her phone and screamed. "WHAT THE HELL?!"
"Relax, it's just me Preston. I made a mask for this project."
She paused for a second. "Wow! that looks amazing, let me guess you want to play Logan?"
"How did you guess?"
"You really captured his dreamy face."
They laughed as the director came up who looked on with excitement in his eyes seeing the prop work. "Right, let's get the reel done quickly. I have to go soon."
So they started. The scene was in an underground bunker, thunder snow rolled outside as in the darkness Basil grabbed onto May.
"Why? Why are you doing this?" May's teary expression gave way, she looked up seeing her stalker's face for the first time.
"Don't you know I loved you, every message, every gift, everything, all of it. It was all for you. But you had another, only I can have you. After I have known you since high school, a face like mine, what's wrong with a bit of love." A forced raspy performance came from Basil.
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Make you mine, be part of me forever May."
"Alright, good." The director called out, he beckoned Basil forth. "Listen, you clearly haven't performed much. On top of that, adlibbing the script with knowing May beforehand isn't going to work."
"Sorry then, bye." A quick solemn tone filled him as he began to leave.
"I didn't tell you to leave, I am telling you that I need an actor. But that mask and makeup you did in only a few minutes, if you can do that for yourself and shape up I want you in the movie. It was going to be a massive expense but if you can do that for me I can give you a chance."
"Understood, I will try, I'm sorry."
"Alright, filming will be here in a month. If in that first week you can't act better than Gal Gadot there are other people for the role."
"Yes director."
"Just call me Aaron. I will contact you with updates."
Going home Aaron sighed, Preston was his only real option, everyone else was better acting wise. But the quality of the costume on such short notice and how much would be saved was substantial. He continued writing the script as the news played. He listened as a report came in:
"It has been a week and a half since Basil Hunter, serial killer and cannibal was first reported dead. New CCTV footage released shows a man leaving from a building attached to the bunker complex less than an hour after authorities arrived. Last seen in Omaha Nebraska authorities say he could have taken a bus, train, or car since. Authorities are calling for a nationwide manhunt with a cash prize of 250,000 dollars for anyone who gives information leading to his arrest. 23, standing at 5'10 and with multiple deformities he is likely wearing a mask. Photos have also been released tracking back his contact with May Lewiston as far back as high school."
As he wrote he now began to question why Preston thought Basil knew her. Probably just a coincidence, also he had to write the script more quickly if he was going to get a spring release. There was only so much time he could spend changing it, if new news came out he would have to change it while filming, he tried to get over nagging ideas of holding off. A story like this is once in a decade, he needed a hit sooner than later.
Across the city In an alleyway Basil began to panic they knew, of course they did. Greyhound buses had cameras at the stations. He looked different but DNA would catch him. He had no papers, no money, no help. He looked around his face, he could change. But something lingered, what if he could look like someone else. On the news report he saw Logan, the man who stabbed him, who took away the love of his life. Pausing and focusing he could feel his skin congeal and bone shift underneath his skin. His stature was now smaller and hair changed. He was his spitting image. He couldn't help but smile, he could be anyone, do as he was willed to do, and leave as another. Most importantly catching him no matter the crime would be a nightmare. He had to hold off for now but his mind was filled with hunger.
He had gotten used to the cameras now, light filled the room as the three cushy chairs lay in front of a man at a desk. The audience cheered as the man at the desk introduced himself. "Good evening everyone, this is Liam Broad tonight, coming to you at home online and broadcasting. Tonight as we have been waiting for the star leads of Consumption, a smash hit this Spring earning over four hundred million dollars by a small team of first time actors. Aaron Drabek went back to his roots directing and writing the entire production, it took just around four months."
The crowd cheered as the three introduced themselves. Sarah told her story of being an aspiring dancer that led her to commercials. Jonah talked about his struggles playing Logan and talking to and getting approval from the family before taking the role. But everyone was waiting for Preston.
"So Preston tell the audience a bit about how you made it here?"
"Well I was born homeless but I always wanted to act, just so happens I had enough money to go into a Dennys at the right time. Aaron needed an actor who could come cheap, and I needed enough money to go back to Dennys." The crowd jeered, rags to riches and he was the lucky star.
"Of course your acting, pitch, and rhythm is astounding but is it true you did the practical effects?"
"Well of course, I tried to make props, I scoured and practiced, it wasn't like I had work to do. I figured with my face, legs, and voice I could maybe get the chance to star in a zombie movie. As a corpse that is."
"Any roles you are looking for now with breakout success under your belt?"
"I really would like to lead in a film not as a monster but as a leading man. I probably should get an agent or just continue hanging out at diners and find another director looking for an actor."
The radio played in his car as he left the set, the story of a woman disappearing the other day played. It had been half a year since he was stabbed. He loved acting, he had money, a car, a house. But he was pestered with constant fan messages, people wanted to see him, he still hungered even after his recent catch. He couldn't stop himself. Before he had to scavenge, a few times in a year, leftover corpses, he had only tried hunting once, had he not ran he would be dead or worse.
He got home and sighed, walking in he turned on the news and pulled out two limb legs and severed hands. They were going to go bad soon so he prepared them and let them stew in a pot as he began to relax. The aroma of human flesh never got old, no longer in the dingy basement he had time to satisfy himself. Nothing would beat May, how personal it was and how satisfying it was to kill.
He reminisced on the movie he was surprised at how close they were to some of the details but each line was far too articulate. If he wasn’t on camera or trying to put up appearances he spoke briefly and straight. But he had millions now, in fact he didn’t really have to work again if he didn’t feel like it. He began to eat and contemplate his next steps.
He heard his doorbell ring, confused and concerned he slowly walked over. On the ground was a letter. He looked around before picking it up.
To Basil Hunter
Greetings I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately we here at IRISco have reason to believe you have misused the Deadhead treatment. The Deadhead agent serves to permanently maintain your new form after only a few months, however using it for means of obfuscating identity breaches our terms of service. It is because of that your trial will be ending early. We have confiscated your medication and documentation. Ending early will cause unknown side effects. For further treatment seek further medical assistance.
His heart dropped as he rushed back inside, his pills and journal was gone. He called to no response, he messaged and found he was blocked. Not even a warning, how did they know, what could he do. He couldn't go back, his life was finally worth living. Take the money and leave, but no matter where his face would stand out. dozens of pricy procedures.
His body began to melt, his skin dropped as he stared in the mirror, he saw his eye pop out of the socket. Not only that but more flesh than normal began to pool up. Scarred and rotten skin splurged forth as his breathing became heavier. His voice became hoarse, he could hardly stand, and his face worse than it ever had been before. He screamed as he saw his heart begin to rapidly beat within the torrent of flesh.
He fainted, when he rose he looked at the mirror, his face before the pill greeted him. With deep breaths he focused, his face began to change again. Each movement sharp pains began to stab but he would do anything to never see his own face.
CRASH a window had broken, Basil's heart dropped. He heard the sound of a few men walking in. As he listened he could feel his body begin to break, the building panic consuming his mind. The bathroom door wide open he saw a man walk in, with one look at his face he looked disgusted and immediately shot.
The bangs echoed through the house as blood pooled to the hallway. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" A voice yelled out from not too far away.
"Look at him! that's the freak on the news!" He said back with exasperation.
Another man walked up and looked at his body. "Well why the fuck did you shoot, now the cops will be here, we killed him, and we don't get any of the reward money."
A third man rushed in. "You two grab any valuables, I can check if he may still be breathing."
"Still breathing? Mack just unloaded 12 bullets. It's not worth it."
"If 250,000 dollars is just chump-"
The blood that spilled to their shoes rapidly grew with flesh, arms pulled them to the ground as a guttural scream came from the corpse. The body expanded like a tumor outwards. It formed into a massive dripping orb with only a mouth filled with massive jagged teeth. They each fell into the puddles of expansive skin and muscle, it coated their faces and blocked each orifice. They could only watch as the remaining bullets were absorbed into the body. One by one each one was suffocated.
The flesh subsided back into Basil. Before he only tried minor cosmetic adjustments, but something now he didn't quite understand had changed. His body seemed to dissolve the flesh he encapsulated and thus more mass congealed under his control. This life, running, living alone, given attention. Maybe long ago he would have been happy with it, but the more he consumed the more he desired.
He began to morph his face around into something, sure it wasn't perfect but it was enough to not be classified as Basil. He went to his room filled with props and laid a blank face mask over his head. It stopped his face from too drastically moving. He began to weigh his options, he couldn't be hidden forever. Skipping town could work but he would have to immediately, if he always had a mask on and maybe a wig, and then stay homeless underground yeah it was all going to work out.
He knew underground here had hundreds if not thousands of people to be prey, a place he could truly belong. He could get used to the tearing flesh and pain. He left his house leaving most everything behind. Sirens sounded in the distance but he didn't care. He was on the streets now, he was where he belonged.
Across the city he went underground. The smell of grime and sounds of sirens. He found himself at peace; he was exhausted and found a secluded abandoned room to rest in. He closed his eyes before the last thing he felt was a blunt object hit his skull.
His eyes stirred awake as a sudden sharp pain overcame him. Yet he looked forward. In jars were separate organs and piles of bones, his organs and bones. His flesh was nowhere to be found, how he wished he couldn't see. A man lumbered forward, observing parts of his body writhe in pain, unable to die, unable to truly live. Picked cleanly away was the skin and meat, without it nothing could move. A ceaseless amount writhing in pain. He could feel it being chewed, he watched his heart beat in a separate jar. He had no bones to move. His mind was too far away to be seen. The pain of separation, being chopped, sliced, burned, boiled, cooked, all manner of ceaseless consumption. He couldn't scream, he could only watch, feel and hear all manner of destruction over and over. The painful purgatory ever unending.