Dying to Live by Roxy De Winter

of the beaten up old Chevy and checked that he had his wallet tucked in his pocket.
    He didn’t have much time to contemplate how long Martha was taking, because a blood-curdling howl tore through the silence.
    “MARTHA!” He yelled and pelted across the lot. As he flung open the door, the unassuming tinkle of its bell seemed perverse.
    He halted in his tracks, just in time to avoid slipping in the rapidly pooling blood that was oozing towards him.
    “Oh my god! MARTHA!” Josh roared. Then he looked up from the ground and saw it.
    There was a dog, it looked like a Doberman, and it was tearing into Martha’s leg. Leaping into action, he wrestled the dog into a headlock and tried desperately to get it to unclench its jaw from the flesh it wanted so badly. The dog was having none of it, but Josh was not going to let this beast maim his soul mate. He smashed his fist into the side of its head. It didn’t seem to hurt the dog, but it sure as hell pissed it off. The dog let go and spun around to face Josh, who had tumbled backwards.
    He let out a shriek of horror. The dog was missing most of it chest cavity. Shards of broken rib jutted from the gaping hole where, surely, its lungs should have been. The area surrounding the gaping wound was completely devoid of skin and fur, there was just exposed muscle and sinews.
    Josh may have been sick at the sight of it, but he didn’t get to take it in for too long before the dog was on him. It took all of his strength to hold the dogs gnashing muzzle away from his neck. It was much stronger than he would have expected any dog could be, but then again it was alive without it lungs, so that was the least of his surprise.
    Grappling furiously with the dog, Josh was incapable of reacting to the grotesque, male monster clawing its way over to his wailing, bleeding girlfriend. The thing was missing a leg but sliding easily along the slippery, bloodied floor.
    He fought hard against the writhing weight of the dog and screamed in agony when, distracted by Martha’s predicament, the dog managed to latch its teeth into his bulging bicep. It bit down hard and Josh was rendered helpless against its sheer power and the overriding pain flooding his system.
    He watched. It was all he could do. Martha convulsed and screeched the most awful sounds of pain and helplessness. The dead man tore open her stomach with one ripping bite.
    Josh struggled again to save her, to save their child, but the dog shook its head savagely and broke his bone clean in half. The pain was so intense that when the weight that had been his arm disconnected from his body, he felt a wave of faintness ripple through him and his consciousness threatened to leave completely.
    Martha was barely comprehendible as she screamed and pleaded for their baby’s life. The monster didn’t even take a pause. It propped itself into a sitting position and tore with its hands, ripping the hole in Martha’s stomach wider still. All manner of fluids spilled from inside of her and that was the last she could take. Her eyes rolled and her head drooped over to one side.
    “NO!” Josh shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. He lashed out wildly with his remaining limbs. Droplets and sprays of blood arched out around him. The dog sank its foul teeth into his stomach, tearing a hunk of flesh clean away. Joshua vomited freely, losing control of his own body. As he slumped sideways, he could only watch the scene unfolding.
    The undead attendant was delving its hands into Martha, splashing amniotic fluid and blood everywhere. It was like watching a crazed psychopath carry out a C-section. It pulled the foetus, Joshua’s little girl, Ella, from Martha’s womb and snarled hungrily. The tiny baby girl had no chance to even register that she had been pulled from her safe, warm cocoon and into this cold, new world. Her new-born body was dripping with blood but pink and living. The thing just let out one guttural growl of triumph, before gnashing its