The Product Line (Book 1): Product by Ian McCain

Author:Ian McCain [McCain, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ian S. McCain
Published: 2013-11-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The searing pain in his side has stopped. But the pulsing thump in his head is getting stronger. Tayvon’s thoughts and perception are fragmented, allowing only brief glimpses of the present, awash in a sea of confusion and some unknown and powerful driving desire. The drumming beat of heavy electronic bass from the stereos of nearby cars creates a background soundtrack to this bizarre yet bliss-filled nightmare.

This haze or loss of blood, or shock or whatever, it’s like he is drifting in and out of sleep while watching a slideshow of evil. Moments of conscious lucidity mixed with brief images of absolute horror. Vague unreal memories of trying to eat people, digging through skin like some starving animal trying to get to a hidden meal. The metallic taste of copper and fresh meat mixing in his mouth fuel this unknown hunger and confirm to him that these images he is seeing are real, these terrible actions happening in front of him are the result of his own hands.

Try as he might, his will is not strong enough to stem the flow of blood and destruction. He has counted at least a dozen people who have been eviscerated by his hands. Pedestrians on the street, people casually sitting on their stoop, concerned Good Samaritans asking if he is hurt. Even for a cold-blooded killer, what he sees himself doing is too much to take. Even though the reward of each drink is a pleasure unlike anything he has ever felt, he is compelled to stop the massacre. Using what small amount of will he has, he manages to steer the lumbering golem of insatiable thirst toward an open cut in the subway line, a path into the all-too-familiar tunnel system heading downtown.

As he approaches the fencing to the tracks he finds a homeless man sprawled out on the ground, sleeping away his day’s choices. Before he has any chance to stop himself he tears through the man’s face and throat and drinks deeply of this dirty vagrant and his polluted blood. The warm rush of the fluid splashing against the back of his throat fills him with such unparalleled joy that he loses himself in the moment once again. He gives into the will of this darker desire and the rewards of these gruesome acts.

When he is once again aware of himself and his surroundings he can see that he is no longer above ground, but has made his way into the tunnel system of the subway. The usually pitch-dark tunnels are alive with clarity. He can see the individual bricks in the walls and the structural latticework of the overhead supports. He can see the graveled rocks below his feet that support the train’s heavy rails. Things that would normally require a powerful flashlight are clear as can be, as if the whole inner tunnel has been illuminated by the sun.

He continues into the tunnel system, watching his actions more than consciously affecting them. Pushing further he becomes aware

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