Cutting Away The Kiss Of Death

20260220

Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Flash Fiction February Day 20”.

CW: Improved surgery without anaesthetic.

“A-Are you sure about this?”
Edna shot Casper an exasperated look made all the sharper by the fact she was hanging on by a thread. “Do you have another plan? Like, any idea other than putting a bullet in my head right now?”
“No.” Casper muttered. Absently testing the axe blade one more time.
“Then shut up and do it.” Edna glared down at her arm, strapped to the table, his target made clear by the two tourniquets either side of her elbow joint.
One to try and prevent the infection spreading upwards from the bite on her arm, which was already pussy and smelt gangrenous. The second tourniquet was to try and minimise the blood lost when the infected limb was severed.
“Alright, alright.” Casper took a deep breath. Trying to steady himself. Needed to land a hard, clean blow. This was going to be horrible enough as it was. “I wish we had something to numb it.”
“Not half as much as I do.” Edna managed a thin smile. “I’ll be fine. I gave birth twice. Just… please hurry up.”
“R-right.” Casper hefted the axe in his hand, and Edna shoved the waiting pair of socks - clean, as much as anything could be in this frantic scrabble for survival - between her teeth. Ready to bite down.
“One.” Casper lifted the axe.
Edna stared straight past him, expression impassive, sweat beading on her brow.
“T-two…” His hands were shaking. Needed to steady them. Come on, one good swing. He gulped, fixed his gaze on the target, tried to pretend the limb before him was just a piece of wood which needed splitting, gasped out “Three!” and swung down as hard as he could.
The rest of the group, huddled outside, cringed as one when the scream rang out. Agony painfully audible through worn cotton and decaying walls.
Her sobbing wasn’t easier to listen to.
“Please work.” Joel whispered, to whatever capricious higher powers might be out there. “Please let it save her.”
It was one of those rumours which made sense, and gave precious hope, and so spread wherever groups of survivors happened to meet up; zombism spread via the blood, and you could prevent someone from turning by treating it like a venom.
Nobody ever knew someone it had worked on. But, like the hordes plaguing them, the rumour simply wouldn’t die.
Sammy was huddled alone in the corner. Her head wrapped in her arms. She’d finally run out of tears, but still wouldn’t look at anyone. Wouldn’t listen as they assured her that nobody blamed her for this. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t seen the zombie until it was too late. She was only a child, after all.
As much as you could be a child, in a nightmare like this.
Back inside the improvised operating theatre, Casper had finished dousing the wound with Joel’s best attempt at disinfectant and wrapping it in the bandages they’d thankfully managed to plunder from a motel first aid box days ago.
While he was forever grateful that his job as a summer camp attendant meant he’d been trained in not only survival skills but advanced first aid… he did wish someone else in the group had been too. That not all of these jobs had to be his job.
He clamped the lid on the plastic box which held Edna’s unfortunate arm and shoved the (hopefully) sealed container into the corner, out of sight. “It’s over, it’s all over. You did great.”
Edna managed a whimper of relief. Tears slipping from her squinched eyes. Casper grabbed a spare cloth, waiting ready to wipe down the table, and tenderly dabbed her face dry.
“Let’s get you lying down. I’ll… clear this up.”
He’d already unstrapped her arm to be able to treat it properly. He paused long enough to throw a cloth over the worst of the blood, then went to the door.
Everyone looked up at him the moment it opened, fear covering their faces.
Casper forced a smile. Hoping it looked reassuring. “Sh-she’s, uh, I need a hand helping her lie down.”
Several people jumped to their feet, exchanged uncertain looks, then Sandra was waved to follow Casper into the blood-stench room.
Between them they managed to get Edna settled onto the waiting camp bed with a minimum of jolting or bumping. She was so pale. Pain? Blood loss? Probably both, but how severe was the second?
“Do… do you want the straps?” Sandra asked gently.
“Yes.” Edna rasped. “Don’t want to… put you all…”
“Right.” Sandra started securing Edna to the bed. Not that such a flimsy structure, or the webbing straps they’d found, would hold a zombie for long. But hopefully enough that whoever was standing guard could…
The axe was sitting ready. Wiped clean - as clean as it could be. Waiting. Just in case.
You knew you were in dire times, when hope smelled like your friend’s blood, boiled vinegar, and a space long abandoned.

Prompt was “A zombie plague has struck the world, spreading like wildfire. No one truly knows how it works, but one thing everyone can agree on is that when you get bit, you turn into one of them. Rumors have said removing the affected limb can save you if you’re fast enough. No one knows if it really works. You’ve managed to survive for months, but now? You’ve just been bit…”