“Open up, say aahhhh”. Said the dentist, the flickering light above granting glimpses into the decayed office where he worked.
Jack complied. His jaw hurt from the strain.
Looking to the side, Jack noticed a stack of porno mags. He didn’t know they still made them.
“Ah, I see you noticed my collection.” Said the dentist. “My father gave me my first porn magazine when I was 12, and I’ve been collecting them ever since. My favorite is Darla Greaves. She’s got a rack like no one else.”
“I see.” Jack said.
The dentist reached into the pile, grabbing a tattered magazine from the middle of the stack.
“First issue Darla Greaves centerfold right here. Take a look.”
“I really don’t know if I want to--”
“No, no I insist, look at her tits!
The dentist shoved the magazine into Jack’s face. The woman in the centerfold was naked. She looked sad, like she had just finished crying. Her mascara streamed down like blood from a bullet wound.
“Magnificent titties; first ever time I came was to those tits.”
“Look, Doctor, I just want to get my teeth checked out.”
“Fine, fine! You a fag or something?” Asked the dentist.
“No, I just--”
“Because only a faggot would turn down the chance to look at those!” The dentist laughed.
“I really don’t see how my sexuality has anything to do with this appointment. Can we please just look at my teeth?” Jack was tired. He wanted to go home. He didn’t even want to go to the dentist, but his gums were bleeding.
“Whatever,” said the dentist, as he peeked back into Jack’s mouth.
“Ew, that does not look good. What have you been doing in there, huh?”
“Nothing just, McDonald’s, I guess.”
“Well, you’ve got oral herpes, gingivitis, a few sarcomas, maybe an oral hernia...didn’t even know that was possible.” the dentist said, scratching his groin.
“Is there something you can do for me?” Asked Jack.
“Well,” began the dentist, “I could get you some Percs; might help with the pain. But with the degradation of medicine as it is, I’d say your best bet is to sleep it off.”
Jack felt like he might cry. He thought about dying to the sarcoma, or the hernia, and in considering is own death, he realized he didn’t care. He might take some of the Percs though, at least enjoy his final days. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been happy. Maybe when he thought he was getting a McGriddle.
“Alright, well, you have my number if you need me. Extension 4, Dr. Greaves.”
“Funny, same name as Darla.” Jack laughed.
“Well yeah, she was my mother, after all.”
“What?”
“Darla? She was my mom! This centerfold was her last shoot before she died. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the good ol’ days.” The dentist said, wistfully.
“Oh..Jesus.” Jack said; he felt both disgust, shame, and regret having decided to cheap out on dentists.
“Yeah….I miss her often. Hey, if you’re ever in the city, hit up Long Johnson’s, my sister is working there as one of the dancers. Second best tits in the world...nothing like mom’s though. Her name’s Darla, too.”
In that moment Jack realized that he had wished he had died even sooner, so that he could have avoided this conversation.
“Yeah, sure.” Jack said, as he swiftly left the office, not even stopping at the front desk to pay.
Walking down the street towards his bike, Jack remembered he didn’t have one, and had walked to the dentist’s office. He’d have to walk through the city again, just about a 40 miles. He thought he might give up on the prospect, and take up living in the sewers instead. But then he realized that the dentist had probably done something unspeakable, and flushed it down the drain, so he preferred to keep walking.
Down the cracked sidewalk, Jack stepped over the corpses of the people who had died the night prior in the uprisings. A long time ago Jack would have joined the youth in fighting back, but at his age, he only had a couple good years left. He’d rather spend them lying in bed, counting mold, than helping the revolution. Still, it hurt to step in the pools of blood, reminded of the friend’s he’d lost in his past life; the life he had when he cared. He thought about Darla, her face sticking in his mind. He knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. She was familiar. He could hear her voice; it was frayed, and pained. How did he know her?
A crash erupted behind Jack, as dust and debris rushed past him. He lost his footing, and fell onto one of the bodies. Turning around, Jack saw that the building the dentist worked in had collapsed. Coughing, Jack forced himself to stand. He was covered in blood, and couldn’t tell what was his, and what was the youth he had fallen on. A piece of shrapnel had lodged itself in Jack’s arm. If he still had feeling in his arm, he was sure it would have hurt, but as it was, all he felt was pressure. He decided he would deal with it later.
Continuing on his journey home, Jack was stopped by one of the boys that tormented him back home. He couldn’t remember which one.
“Oh...hi.” Jack said.
“Hi.” Said the boy.
“What are you doing out here?” Jack asked.
“My sister’s funeral. You were invited, you know.”
“Oh. I didn’t know she died.”
“Cancer wasn’t what got her; it was the hunger. Your potatoes didn’t feed us long enough. McDonald’s didn’t feed us long enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Its okay. I’m just so hungry. How fresh are the bodies, do you think?”
“Pretty; the blood hasn’t browned yet, and rigor mortis hasn’t set in.”
“Vigor Morbis?”
“Vigor mortis; its the point where the body stops being limp and goes hard.”
“What does human taste like?”
“I don’t know.” Jack really did know, but he didn’t want the boy to know that.
“Do you think my sister will ever forgive me if I eat one of them?”
Jack thought for a moment. “No,” he finally said, “I don’t think she would.”
“Oh.”
Jack forced a smile, before brushing past the boy, and heading towards home once again. He heard the boy sob, as blood squelched, and bones popped. The boy dug deep into the flesh of the youth, eating as much as he could between bouts of tears.
Before long, Jack was deep in the city, the bodies of the youth’s replaced with the old, as the violence of revolution shifted to the violence of hunger. An old man raised his hand up to Jack. Beside him was a sign that detailed his life in the form of an epic poem. After the cardboard sign had reached its end, the poem continued onto the sidewalk, wrapping up the old man’s leg, and onto his face. At the very top, was a plea: “food.”
Jack pushed the hand away, and continued down the road. He heard the man cry out, before silence washed over the city. He had surely succumbed to the hunger, just like the rest. There were no cars, no lights, no buildings still standing. All that remained of the city were decrepit huts and hobbled towns built from plywood, nails, and sheets of rusty steel. Little fires provided warmth to those who still lived, and the rats that scurried between the rubble provided food. What little meat was found on their shriveled bodies turned to ash in the mouth, damning all that lived to the hunger. Everyone who lived in the city would eventually die by the encroaching demon that brought pangs in their gut, and tears in their lungs. Far above were vultures, circling head. They knew better than to drop when people were out, as they provided the most substantial meals out of all the creatures still living in the city. So, they waited for Jack to leave or die, hoping for the latter, but receiving the former.
Near the end of the city limits, the old were replaced once again by the young, as other’s like Jack made their way back to the suburbs. At the far end of the street that closed out the city limits was Long Johnson’s. Without thinking, Jack stepped into the building.
Inside, the air smelled of sex and alcohol. A man handed Jack a bottle of something, of which he took a swig, before collapsing to the ground. It was strong, whatever it was.
As his vision blurred, Jack looked up and saw a familiar face: Darla.
“Jack?! What are you doing here?!” Darla said, pushing two men aside who had been ogling her.
“How do you know my name?” Jack asked.
“Jesus, don’t you remember?”
“I…..I don’t…”
“Jack….I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t be here; you know I don’t like you seeing me like this….or you did know…”
“I’m sorry, I went to the dentist and--”
“Oh? How’s that creep doing these days?”
“He’s dead.”
“Building collapsed?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“I always knew that would be how he went. That building was never up to code, I warned him.”
Darla seemed happy.
“Glad he’s dead?”
Darla laughed, “after what he did to our mother, you bet I’m happy.”
“Our?”
Darla’s eyes gaped, as she put her hand to her mouth.
“You don’t remember….Jack, I’m your sister.”
Jack laughed, “No, the dentist is your brother, I’m just Jack.”
Darla began to cry, “Jack, Dr. Fitzgerald is our rapist; he is not our brother.”
“Oh.” Jack said, he realized that he must have misheard, or perhaps misunderstood, the conversation with the dentist.
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to him anymore; I guess you don’t remember that, either.”
Jack vomited. A flash of images too painful to recount dazed him, as he forced himself to stand.
“I need to go.” Said Jack, as he turned towards the door.
“Jackie please! Just, call me when you get home, will you? I’ll make sure to stop by after work, but I need to know you got home safe.”
Jackie? No one called me Jackie, thought Jack. Not since I was a kid. Not since…..Oh God…. Darla. Jack remembered. Darla, his sister, his…..gone. Jack forgot again, and left the club without so much as a word to his forgotten sister.
On the way home he stopped by McDonald’s. It was closed.