Edmund turned to look at his wife still asleep and the ominous lump at the foot of their bed. He felt himself above all this madness, a world away from the suffering of others, as he usually was. Able to peer down on the less fortunate with pity and no real consequence. He sat up with difficulty, feeling warm blood trickle down his upper lip, wiped his nose and crawled to the end of the bed. Edmund dragged himself up the frame clumsily, the last of his dignity trailing out behind him. In his struggle, he criticised himself for buying such a monstrous bed, though his wife Elizabeth revelled at the price tag, not to mention the distance it put between them at night. Before lifting the covers, he hesitated, he could just slip back into bed and refuse the problem. This was not something he could throw money at till it went away.
Uncovering the lump Edmund was faced with his left foot, severed at the ankle and sitting stately on the covers. There was no blood, instead, a film of fresh pink skin covered the detachment on both sides. A sharp exhale escaped from his mouth, causing Elizabeth to stir. Edmund froze, panic-stricken as she sat up, yawned, and met his gaze, glancing down at the foot. Disdain flickered across her porcelain features before she caught it with a stony expression. She rolled back over not wanting to deal with a problem which, frankly, wasn’t hers.
Edmund knew what this meant for the marriage. He was one of them now, broken, unable to be put back together. His status detached and resting in front of him ugly and un-pedicured. Vainly Edmund wished he’d moved tomorrow’s appointment forward so that at least this foot before him was presentable. He snatched up the foot and let his body slink off the bed into a puddle. Edmund prescribed himself five minutes of self-hatred, as he did every morning, today’s were particularly potent.
Gathering his thoughts he rolled himself out the bedroom, into one of four walk-in wardrobes stationed about the house and ruffled in the mess drawer for a temporary fix to this permanent problem. Triumphantly he pulled out an unopened three-pack of duct tape, mashed the severed stumps together and used an entire roll. Pleased with his handwork, Edmund stood. Being vertical once more made Edmund hopeful. He wasn’t like the others, he wasn’t even left-foot dominant for fuck sake! The hour it took him to get ready involved a lot of hopping before he wobbled down the steps and sat at the table for breakfast.
Elizabeth was already seated, and staring down into her food with the same conviction she had shopping for wedding rings. Hers, however, was missing. Edmund pretended not to notice, made himself a piece of toast and hobbled out the door at astonishing speed.
*
It was easier for Edmund to suspend belief while driving, seeing as he drove with his right foot only. Easy, that is, until he noticed the piles. He’d driven past the towering mounds of feet every day for the past two years. The departing of feet from their owners was staggered, starting slowly with a couple hundred cases. It was always the left foot severed just above the ankle, no blood, no pain, detached in the night and perfectly preserved. When cases grew the government called a hard quarantine. Resistance was futile, this was no plague but a divine intervention called down by god to smite evil sinners and the poor. Edmund was red-blooded, god-fearing and loaded, this had to be a mistake on god’s part, though a thought like that was blasphemy. Staring at the limbs that littered the street, a pang of nausea overcame Edmund at the thought of being grouped in with their owners.
He turned his mind to the pitch he’d been working on with Bruce for the past month. Both of them were up for the new VP spot at their firm, this pitch was the chance to land a big client and a new job, complete with a corner office overlooking the city on level 42. Edmund hated Bruce, with his full head of hair, tight body, hot wife and left foot still attached. He needed something to lord over the prick and this VP job was going to be it.
Edmund snagged a park in front of his office, incredible luck considering, and excited the car clumsily. He turned to the building and was faced with around 200 concrete steps. This was a genius bit of architecture on the company’s part, meant to keep out the scum, no handrails in sight. Sweat loosened the duct tape’s grip on his ankle, and he prayed that it would hold out. Edmund felt a hand clap hard on his shoulder.
”Hey Eddy”
Bruce flashed the toothy white smile of a predator at him. Edmund hated that nickname and Bruce knew it, he liked to belittle him.
Edmund cleared his throat ”Hi Bruce”
”Are you ready for the big pitch today?” Bruce chirped.
“I am Bruce”
Edmund turned towards him and wobbled, the duct tape starting to give way. Bruce frowned down at Edmunds’s left foot.
“You ok there bud?” Asked Bruce.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Edmund snapped.
Bruce made for the stairs, turning to look at the rigid Edmund still waiting on the curb.
“We don’t want to be late” he tutted.
Edmund shuffled forward and placed his left foot onto the first step. Slowly he shifted his weight over it and made the proper devotions to his god. The tape held strong. Edmund looked down in disbelief and bolstered with steely determination began the rest of his ascent. Up and up, not a falter in his step and waving to his coworkers as he went, Edmund felt blessed by the grace of all that is holy. Still, the tape held strong. A pebble on the 197th step caused Edmund to slip slightly and take a knee for balance. His heart leapt into his throat. He looked up and quickly realised that no one had seen him and his foot was still firmly in place. Bruce, the only one to notice the fall had turned and extended his hand to Edmund, an olive branch before their oncoming battle. Edmund let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and clasped Bruce’s outstretched hand. He should’ve known. Bruce relinquished his grip and Edmund made his way painfully back down to the curb.
Time is rumoured to slow in the moments before a fall, this luxury was not delegated to Edmund. He fell quickly and unpleasantly down all 196 of the concrete steps, bouncing his head off most of them as he went. His left foot detached and clattered down with its owner landing perfectly upright. Edmund sprawled on the curb, a pool of blood growing increasingly larger around his head. Before slipping from consciousness he turned his to lay his eyes on the foot that caused him so much anguish. It was gone.
*
Edmund awoke alone on the cold pavement. He sat up too quickly and felt the pounding in his temples. He touched a hand to his head and it came back sticky with congealed blood. Night was setting in, and the distinct lack of car keys in his pocket told Edmund his car was stolen. No one had thought to help him, which was as much as he deserved. Turning around he wasn’t surprised when his eyes landed upon a now empty car park. He rose to his foot, dusted his shoulders and hobbled on his stump in the direction of home.
As he walked Edmund passed others who had parted with their feet. They paid him no mind and continued to shamble towards nothing. A beggar sat hunched over his collection bowl in the street, looking up at Edmund expectantly before noticing his misgiving and returning his gaze to the floor.
Right Foot Dominant, even the beggar knew he had nothing left.
In the early hours of the morning, his journey home was over. The hulking piece of oak stood ajar. Edmund could see that the foyer was stripped bare, he expected the rest would be the same. Elizabeth was never one for waste. He tipped himself onto the lawn and lay there in the dewy morning grass.
Edmund desperately wanted to get inside, his only problem, the two front steps.
