#and slowly but surely you realize; after you narrowly escape acid rain and fire rain; that this IS earth

[zagreus-eats-your-bread]

Fuck you. Red Dwarf: Better Than Life novel fanart

"Lister did something then he wouldn't have done in any other circumstances whatsoever. He started to eat a sofa.

This seemed to go down well. There was a cacophony of whirrs, clicks and whistles, and the cockroaches circled in delight.

'Well, it's been absolutely wonderful,' Lister found himself saying. 'Terrific place you've got here,' he said to the mother roach. 'And you serve a wicked rotting sofa. But I really must be going.' He nodded, threw in a few clicks and whistles for good measure, and climbed on the first roach's back. It waddled speedily down the length of the cave, and flung itself over the mountain side. "

[pleom]

i. hunger

A sound awoke you. It shouldn’t have—it was much too distant and far too quiet for you to have picked up on it. But the tension in the air left you hyperaware of every move and shuffle, too high-strung to fully give yourself to sleep. You lacked the energy to open your eyes and relied on your other senses to give you a clue. The sound slowly grew in clarity—plastic crinkles and the smacks of a dry mouth.

It was Jisung, sat against a wall with an empty bag of chips dangled over his tongue. He panted desperately, and licked at the pitiful amount of crumbs that dropped into his mouth. All around him were containers of already finished food. The last meal ate was a can of green beans, and it was Minho who shoved the last bits into his mouth while everyone slept. The room never smelled of rotten food, though, as everyone made sure to pick each package and cartridge clean. No one would dare leave behind a speck in their wake. Not while the whole room starved. 

“Jisung,” Mina warned. 

“Sorry,” and the plastic bag crumpled back down to the floor. Jisung groaned with his chest, arms twitching over his stomach. “I’m just so hungry; how long do we gotta wait?”

It seemed like everyone was awake, now. More feet dragged across the concrete, and every wrinkle seemed to have its own reverb. Life sprung back into being inside this cellar bunker of yours.

You felt it, too. An emptiness none too gentle. It rocked you in violent waves that left you heaving, but even so, you had to keep a steel grip. The rest of the cabin moaned with the same predicament. And deep inside all of them, even with the knowledge they beared, they wondered the same thing.

“Long enough,” Mina said, easily irked. She kicked a can to its side and nestled deeper into the wall. “We’ll survive, I promise. But only if you guys keep it down, alright? Ever heard of meditating?”

��Meditating is supposed to be done under ideal conditions,” Jisung fired.

“Not true,”

“Very true, what—”

The screeching of metal broke the beginnings of another argument before it began, signaling either the return of someone important or the arrival of someone disastrous. Heavy boots plodded down the concrete stairs leading to your bunker, a single bated breath shared among all its dwellers.

“Guys,” a familiar, somber voice echoed through the chamber, “it’s safe.”

It’s Chan. And he came back bloodier than before. But the stains on his clothings registered later than his words—

—“Really?!” You jumped from your seat, and immediately tumbled back down to your knees. The hunger sucked the energy out of your muscles, and left you with limbs that defied your every wish. 

Chan was by your side immediately, wrapping his hand around your rail-thin arm. “Yeah, and I brought food, so you all can relax.”

The room broke down in relief, sighs and cries falling from left and right. The grumbles from their stomach sounded louder than ever. 

Chan slunk a shredded sack from over his shoulder, opening it up to reveal piles of delicate products—peaches, Hawaiian rolls, jerky. Instantaneously, the whole room charged forward on their fragile hands and feet to grab a serving.

When everyone had their piece, they laid back against the wall with renewed vigor, sated and lively. The smell of copper, sugar, and meat wafted through the air. Chan downed a bottle of water and tossed it to the side.

“Now, we just need to wait for the sun to come up, and bear till the afternoon.”

ii. dew

Exiting the bunker cellar brought forth both revelatory and crushing realizations. A new smell met your nose, rancid, and it wasn’t from the thick mush of coagulated blood and torn flesh strewn across the lawn. It was the aftermath left stuck on the grass.

“Usually, after nights like that, the smell of the morning is supposed to be, you know, pleasant,” droned Jisung. “It feels like we woke up in hell.”

“Isn’t it?” Changbin quipped. “But, yeah, this isn’t how it was last time we were out.”

“Feels like climate change gave us its worst,” Sana took large steps to maneuver out of the way of the grass. When everyone gathered to the middle of the street, away from the festering puddles, it was time to consider your odds.

“At least we picked on a pattern,” you said, eyes following the ruptured cords from power-line to power-line. They had stopped sparking with life. “But are we sure this isn’t happening elsewhere? I mean, it’s acid rain. Pretty sure that isn’t location-locked.”

“Before the electricity cut off, I searched for news from everywhere. If psychotic raindrops were falling in anywhere major, it would be an epidemic. Hell, if it even rained in the next town over we’d know. The con of living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, besides the obvious, is that we are truly out of sight and out of mind.”

The group shivered with the truth of Chan’s words. Everyone bore a face of both hopefulness and cynicism as they toyed with the future of the town. 

“Think the cars still work?” Jisung mulled, “Or did the rain kill those, too?”

“Only one way to find out.”

iii. forewarning

“Got a little caught in the rain?” You mused. Hyunjin dashed into the restaurant, soaked down to the bone. A group dinner to celebrate your promotion at work was planned since the announcement, although now very hastily carried out due to the sudden weather. 

A waiter came moments before, and at numerous times, each to which were turned away in consideration for those who hadn’t made it yet. It started looking bleak—and understandably so, until Hyunjin finally pulled through at the door. The rest of the group chuckled lightheartedly; Chan pulled back a chair for him to seat. 

A fist smashed it to its side. 

“Hyunjin?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, just barely loud enough for you to catch. He pulled the seat back up, and threw his coat over it with abandon. Your friends’ liveliness diminished considerably, with every head turning towards the other. A cautious concernment battled the air, with Seungmin being the first to confront it. 

He rested a hand over Hyunjin’s fist, whom now sat with a face full of red and eyes casted down at his lap. 

“You alright there?” Seungmin started, pausing to look over the group, then tried again. “Did you miss the bus? Are you angry you’re late? It’s fine, you know. You can talk—”

Hyunjin erupted from his seat, staring down at Seungmin with irrational indignation. He clenched his lips, then slowly, quietly began to speak. “Don’t push me. I am not in the mood for this.”

You could tell he was holding something/himself back, but the curtness of his words startled you all the same. The rest of the group—Mina, Changbin, Jisung, Minho, Sana, and Chan—all gaped. Seungmin pulled his hands back and held up his arms, sweat building at his temple. You watched his features morph with his thoughts, and just when Hyunjin’s anger seemingly simmered, he braved his next words.

“Forgive me—”

Hyunjin swung. 

You heard it before you saw it. The sound of bone cracking against bone, the wet splats of blood upon tableware, it all made your stomach churn, and you dry heaved at the sight of Hyunjin aiming again. Your friends gasped, screamed, and scrambled away from the table as Chan raced for Hyunjin, but it was too late. Hyunjin’s fists met with Seungmin stronger than before with the buildup of his rage. Their faces almost held the same shade of red, but the color covered just as much ground. 

The entire restaurant followed your steps, spreading chaos where they looked on in shock. 

Chan stopped Hyunjin from placing another blow, but Seungmin already laid unconscious between the crimson rows of chairs. “Hey! Hey! Come on, man! What are you doing?”

“Shut up!” Hyunjin shoved Chan off and turned around to face him. This wasn’t Hyunjin, it couldn’t be. He looked and behaved all too unfamiliar, and within the depths of his eyes, he saw the same. He stared at Chan as though he were a stranger, a nobody, and in a split-second, an enemy. 

He thrusted at Chan and narrowly missed. 

“Chan!” you screamed and nearly bounded for him, tripping over the dozens of disorder limbs in your way. Hyunjin snapped his head and you saw the shift in his focus. He took a step towards you, unrestrained, before your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his waist and threw him down to the floor. 

The restaurant’s workers decided to pull their weight—aiding Chan in confining a thrashing Hyunjin to the ground. A server grappled for Hyunjin’s waist. In that moment, Chan let go, for a second’s reprieve, to find a stronger grasp, or to spit some sense into Hyunjin’s face—you weren’t sure which; everything happened in a blur—Chan being shoved off, Hyunjin flying for the waiter, his fists connecting to his face, blood, shrieking, Chan burrowing you in his chest, tears full of fear running down your cheeks. 

“What’s going on?!” you cried, “He’s beating his face in!”

Chan’s ragged breaths met your ears, and his arms squeezed you in a deathly grip. You backed both of you into a corner along with the others, the sound of rain drumming harder with a sense of mayhem. All this confusion, the uproar inside your brain, you screamed for an answer, his, God’s, anyone who knew the truth. Chan’s tears fell alongside yours, and thwarted, he conceded. 

“I don’t know!” 

His hands balled in your hair, his eyes buried over the crown of your head. And the storm raged on, thunder clapping to the beat of Hyunjin’s fists.

iv. outrage

“Run.”

Shrieks echoed between every nook and cranny of the abandoned school building as you bounded down the halls. You were forced to break with your group, lest you fall victim to one who was in the group.

The sight of the school was first a sign of hope, a shaky breath of air, as you all barely escaped the downfall of the rain. And barely, indeed, since not all of you were lucky. Jisung sludged slowly behind the group, and when the first sound of thunder rang throughout the woods, he struggled kicking his feet quicker. For when it rained, it downpoured; and when the canopy could no longer protect him, he was doused with the sparkings of rage. 

He reached for Changbin, also soaked with the sky-fallen petrol, and strangled him. 

The rest of the group safely arrived at the building and collapsed, not in exhaustion or thirst or hunger, but with a chest-aching hopelessness. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. And you all swore that you had enough time to make it—instead, Jisung made it at the steps before anyone could react.

“Close the door!” 

Minho’s screams sounded from somewhere behind you, but you stayed put behind Chan’s back as he clearly tussled with the thought of blocking off another despair-stricken friend. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the door’s handle, and Jisung stomped closer and closer to your team. By then, you could already predict Chan’s next action, as a man with too much faith in his heart and fists too soft to land blows, he welcomed him in.

“Run!”

Fortunately, Chan’s legs were much too fast for Jisung to catch, but that just left the rest of you. 

Now, you all raced between rooms all familiar and yet alien, as the rain from the past week seemed to have already eroded its walls. It’s decrepit and menacing, and all around not a place you’d like to see Judgment Day in.

You avoided every footfall, chased every moonlight, and studied the rainstorm. You’d assume that with enough trained practice, this night should end without any more blood spilled. With enough luck and mercy on your side, you’ll all regroup, away from the terror of Jisung hunt for broken flesh. Maybe, all you guys needed was time and patience and separation. Maybe, the rain, the cursed rain, would drown out Jisung’s prowling footsteps and the shuffling of yours.

Your steps. 

His steps.

Chan’s steps.

Whose…? 

The steps—they wouldn’t stop coming in all directions. They grew louder with every step backward you took, and grew quiet when you stood still. Every now and again screams could be heard, and they repeated as the moon sailed through the night sky, blissfully unaware—a luxury that you could not be afforded. You prayed for the hiding to end, for Jisung’s rampage to quiet, for your friends and partner to escape to safety. But as each star grew brighter, as though mocking your situation, its reality settled heavy on your shoulders. 

You were never going to see your friends again.

v. new find

A male figure laid with only skin and bones. His arms crossed over his stomach as though he died hanging onto what little remained in it. You didn’t approach, too disheartened by the reality of your situation to take a closer look. Chan clearly felt differently, because he stepped closer to kneel over the body. You sighed.

“Another person starved,” you bemoaned, “That could’ve been us.”

Chan kept his silence, opting instead to rearrange the figure despite your protests. Wincing, you turn your flashlight towards something less gruesome. 

“He didn’t starve,” Chan whispered. 

“Huh?”

“He definitely did not starve,” Chan repeated, rising to full-height. He took a step back, knocking against a wall, a jittery finger pointed at the body. He struggled to spit out his words. “He ate. His lips, his clothes, his hands—full of blood.”

Confusion swirled in your mind. You flashed your light back at the body, but remained in your spot—the thought of seeing further detail made your stomach twist in knots. But the light reflected just enough for you to see; viscera were loosely wrapped around his limbs, yet you couldn’t spot a single open wound or injury on him. 

“W-what do you think this means?” you didn’t want to think deeper on this topic. You wished you could turn your brain off instead. “Surely it could have been an animal, right? Rats must be everywhere.”

“All animals had died since the very first time it rained,” Chan said grimly. You could feel him turn to look at you, but you refused to lift your gaze from the ground. “You know what this means. You’ve seen it.”

You gulped. The truth was there. 

“I have.”

vi. is it rage?

A drop of rain fell onto your hand. 

It soaked there, for just a second. The fear in your stomach almost vanquished, replaced instead with a false sense of relief, pride, and wisdom. You had almost cheered—it isn’t the rain that’s changing people! But then it absorbed.

You felt it in your chest first—thrumming violently near your heart. It made your heart feel like a muscle, a real muscle that grew tougher and stiffer with every pump. It made your blood prod against your veins, seeking exit in holes that didn’t exist. But in the end, it made its own and tinted your vision with red splotches, boiling out the skin of your face one pour at a time.

It grew maddening, terrible, and seared through your stomach in bouts of bile, venom and spite. Your lover’s face flashed inside your mind, and in the next bruised, burnt, and pummeled. Each image ticked with a new injury, a new mutilation and somehow it was the only thing that calmed the fire underneath your ribcage. You gurgled with the little space left inside your lungs.

Your limbs twitched. Your ears pulsed. 

A drop of rain fell onto your hand. 

Blood followed next.

— An All-Consuming Rage