I need not fret for long,
     for her return curtails my thought.
And striding through she bolts the door,
     whilst rasping breath so short.
Her body bent, she huddles
     and I see she is in pain.
And wonder how much longer,
     standing stance she can sustain.

I frown when I perceive,
     the crimson colour of a puddle.
Y is hurt she's bleeding,
     sweet Yolanda is in trouble.
And though we must converse,
     I feel the time can surely wait.
As I leap up to my feet,
     before she falls upon the slate.

"Wait" she shouts in earnest, "Wait!
     It's not quite as it seems."
And struggles at the door,
     amid a curse word she blasphemes.
Protruding from her stomach,
     an object she doth cradle.
An animal with spastic limbs,
     she places on the table.

"I rescued it" she says unnerved,
     while fighting with her child.
It thrashes in her arms some more,
     personifying wild.
And she with eyes of great concern,
     has trouble keeping hold.
As table wobbles left to right,
     her legs begin to fold.

Yolanda drops unto her knees,
     the blood is everywhere.
And though the colour absent,
     it permeates her hair.
"Help" she cries, it rouses me,
     till now a mere spectator.
Collecting sights I see,
     to later tell as the narrator.

As I reach the table,
     I can see the baby fawn.
And instantly I see its leg,
     is broken ripped and torn.
My mouth just hangs wide open,
     I'm watching all agog.
As blood and mess congeal,
     in a form of rancid grog.

"It needs an anaesthetic,
     so that I can set the bone."
She says with such a longing voice,
     for now she's not alone.
I simply hate to think of,
     all the circumstances past,
Where being all alone,
     prevented her from acting fast.

I stride towards the table now,
     the pain I feel repressed.
And focus on the task and then,
     what needs to be addressed.
I hold the writhing body down,
     it scrabbles for to stand.
"Hold it still" she barks,
     so I enact her curt command.

"Of course" I yell, and look away,
     with aim to locate Y.
I find the sight unsightly,
     as I try to mollify!
The cupboards close and open,
     as if possessed by poltergeist.
Yolanda raids them deftly,
     and performs the crucial heist.

The infant on the table top,
     makes noise I've never heard.
I hear it scream in terror,
     though I know that sounds absurd.
A gargled yelp, a frantic pant,
     it forces every breath.
And hollers horse obscenities,
     as it fears impending death.

The scratching of its hooves
     reverberate around the room.
Clawing and a wailing,
     tiny mouth begins to spume.
I watch her, with precision,
     prep syringe with perfect haste
The empty vial hits the floor,
     there is no time to waste.

As liquid sprays across the slate,
     an act of pure expulsion.
The look upon her face contains,
     extravagant revulsion.
She sees a thing that I do not,
     it fills her heart with dread.
And then I hear what she has seen,
     the sounds of the undead.

Beneath me, to my horror,
     the animal starts fitting.
A pain frequents the worried eyes,
     amid the snarls and spitting.
Mouth of foam, jaw convulsing,
     gargle for a voice.
The beauty turns into a beast,
     alas twas never given choice.

The other demon in the room,
     towards Yolanda hurries.
He's faster than the ones before,
     his movements come in flurries.
A second close behind him,
     follows path of much the same.
Now both of us are locked inside,
     the deadly demon's game.

"Kill it now!" Yolanda screams,
     her eyes have seen the fawn.
Its transformation over,
     as we witness what was born.
I grab the blade she left for me,
     perhaps for just this time.
And looking deep into its eyes,
     I devise my deadly crime.

Yolanda shouts, the first is close,
     the second changes path.
She screams aloud "Just do it!",
     as the first incurs her wrath.
Her patent shoe collides with beast,
     she kicks with all her might.
Alas demonic strength prevails,
     and proves most recondite.

I raise the knife, but where to aim,
     the sprawling mess organic.
Sends my mind into a spin,
     and leaves me deep in panic.
Those eyes look up with fear and pain,
     is it still there? I ponder.
But yanked from thoughts, my mind contorts,
     at noises over yonder.

Y struggles holding swine at length,
     of arms just not enough.
I keep my hold of mini fiend,
     it slips on bloody stuff.
The second monster closer now,
     was drawn by my inaction.
Had I been braver, taken steps,
     avoided putrefaction.

Ten thousand times I hear the words,
     Yolanda said before.
And "Do it now. Just do it" rings,
     inside forevermore.
In unison unplanned for sure,
     we both hit limits end.
And seem to know each other's thoughts,
     I cannot comprehend.

I slide the snarling animal,
     off table top to floor.
A hear a crack, as bones doth crack,
     more fragile than before.
The second beast falls forward,
     as stumbles over fawn.
And Y breaks free from evil's grasp,
     a triumph over brawn.

"Run!" she screams with lungs afire,
     she lurches forth with speed.
I take up chase and follow quick,
     delighted to accede.
My legs propel my body fast,
     but soon I feel the pain.
Electric shoots of agony,
     traverse and strike again.

My injured leg could cost our lives,
     I yell, "Go on ahead."
She stops and turns to see my face,
     on hearing what I've said.
Emphatically she gives reply,
     but nary a word is spoken.
But shakes her head insistently,
     as fiends advance unbroken.

"Go!" I yell, for now the beasts,
     have filled the space between.
She watches me unflinchingly,
     events so unforeseen.
This place a den of safety,
     a place she called her own.
Now fallen like the cities here,
     a crushed and broken home.

She reaches to her pocket,
     and a siren she extracts.
She winds the key just as before,
     a scrap of practised acts.
And tug it does to fly so high,
     yet Y maintains her grasp.
And mayhap in surprise,
     at volume loud, emits a gasp.

The dead obtain a focus,
     a drive beyond the grave.
And as Yolanda vanishes,
     I morph from pawn to knave.
A force majeure, an act of God,
     which one I'm quite unsure,
"I'll find you", is her last retort,
     her cry from open door.

The dead collide with doorway,
     as if escaping fire.
The sound of siren ringing out,
     creates a great quagmire.
They push and claw, they scratch and bite,
     for promised chance to feed.
As every sound they choose to chase,
     perhaps fulfils their need.

I see them tear each other's flesh,
     that rank and putrid goo.
Superfluous, their rotting frames,
     mere human residue.
Every dog is for himself,
     concerned with wanton greed.
Gone all forms of lofty goal,
     gone the brains to read.

So ironic is the picture that,
     before me now is painted.
A room of books, a host of worms,
     yet ne'er the two acquainted.
The knowledge of ten thousand here,
     in Black and White prevails.
The knowledge of a hundred lost,
     replaced with gargled wails.

A stethoscope falls to the ground,
     its pieces under tread.
Its usefulness is at an end,
     no hearts to feed the head.
And gnawing faces yaw with blue,
     a wretched hue complexion.
I turn away, these shells will,
     ne'er again receive affection