"Have you ever dealt with people who have lost everything in just an hour? In the morning you leave the house where your wife, your children, your parents live. You return and you find a smoking pit. Then something happens to you -- to a certain extent you stop being human. You do not need any glory, money anymore; revenge becomes your only joy. And because you no longer cling to life, death avoids you, the bullets fly past. You become a wolf."
A wicked wind blew through the tree tops, shaking branches and dislodging leaves. Vines rustled, lashing about like whips and in the far distant, under the tainted green sky, a large floating object moved. Beneath it, a green glow penetrating the buildings and earth. Scanning. A ?dink? came from the trunk of the tree and a hand fastend another clip into the side of the ancient Oak. Slowly, the man secured his belt and saftey system. As he did so a loud and ear splitting noise rang out and echoed over the city scape below him. One of the floating ships had found something. Another Human maybe? The man didn?t care, he was safe. For now.
The war, if it could even be called that, lasted all of seven hours. For one shining moment in Mankinds history, differences where put aside, speeches were made and men fought as brothers, side by side. The great nations of the planet coming together to fight off this extraterrestial threat. But that was not enough. Men where slaughtered, aircraft obliterated and in one fell swoop, the planet fell silent.
Chemicals where released into the atmosphere, travelling in the Gulf Stream, infecting the worlds air supply. The world?s great rainforests, the very lungs of the planet itself suffocated under the new toxic air and slowly withered. People became sick, then mad, and then went insane. Running, biting and mauling each other. They turned on one another, stealing supplies and trying to hide, to survive. The one shining moment in mankinds? history forgotten. Each man, each woman and child were now an enemy, threating your very existance.
For a moment the man took the time to look at the landscape underneath him. The war had changed the very Earth itself. Large cracks and deformed landscape now dotted the horizon, where even the rock had not withstood the barrage. The ground was scarred terribly. The tree, in which the man was now climbing, stood on a huge chunck of earth, that had been torn from the ground and watched over one of the large cities of America, or what remained of it, Los Angeles. He continued to climb, securing more saftey clips as he went. Watching as the alien craft scoured the land. At another time, in another place, it may have been a sight to behold, the glowing green beams, how they shone and cast a faint misty glow. Not today though, for if they found you, a fate worse than death lay ahead.
Reaching his perch in the tree, the man looked down upon the land before him. The skelatal remains of the old city, broken and torn. The empty roads, the quiet that fell over the land, apart from the faint humm of the craft that was now floating away. He smiled to himself, even with all the death, all the pain and terror, there was still something beautiful in this world and that, that was what made it worth figthting for.
He quickly climbed into his hidey-hole and pulled himself into the hammock and fell into a light sleep, swaying slightly in the light breeze. He awoke the next morning with a yawn and a stretch, being careful not to tip the hammock. He looked at the sky, the dark green clouds still blanketed the planet. They?d been there ever since the invasion. Ever since they had polluted the Earth. He opened an MRE, eating the cold sausages and beans as he looked over the city. His supplies where running short and as he sat there, he began to plan a trip into the city.
After his breakfast, the man climbed back down the tree, carefully and slowly, watching the skies as he went. Making sure none of the giant craft were floating about. His rifle, an old Carbine, was slung across his back and tapped at his legs as he struggled back down the giant of a tree. He paused about half way down, taking a swig from his hipflask and wiping the sweat from his brow. The tree was huge and well above ground level. As he continued down, he carefully rigged the safety belt again; making sure it was tight and connected properly. Always check twice he told himself.
When both of his feet were firmly planted on the cracked earth, he took his rifle and held it at his side. Looking to the sun and back to his old silver watch, he made his way forward. The trees around him were dead, the grass brown and sickly. His old boots pattering at the floor with each step. Every so often he would stop, crouch and take an old monocular from his battered jacket and scan the area. Making sure it was clear before proceeding. A light breeze was present, cooling his face as he walked in the midday sun. As he approached the edge of the destoyed grasslands he reached a road. The ashpalt was cracked and weeds grew along it. Looking both ways, he continued walking along the side of the road. No sound but his casual steps and the odd clack of his rifle. It was ghostly quiet. Not even the birds sung, for there were none left.
Buildings soon began to appear, ruined and broken, roofs collasped and doors hanging from their hinges. He didn?t need to check these, he had already scouted the area the day before and if he remembered, there was a large supermarket not far from here. It was risky, the further into the city he went, the less chance he had of hiding. The hunters, named so for that was what they done, roamed the cities during the day and any human they caught had no hope of escape. He stopped and listened at an intersection, nothing. No sounds, no wind, absolute silence. It was desolate. Wrecked and burned out husks of cars lay at the sides of the roads, trucks and other vehicles stood where their drivers had abandonded them.
He opened the door of one vehicle and looked at the inside, a baby seat sat in the rear, straps torn and clothe soaked with a dried red substance. He wipped his nose and turned, seeing the super markets large sign hanging from a pole. Taking one last look at the car, he started towards the shop. If he had been paying any attention, he would have noticed that he wasn?t alone. That somewhere, within the city, he had started to be followed. As he walked towards the old broken building, he saw the cracked windows. The burnt out motor in the automatic door was blackened. Without a second thought he stalked towards it, stepping through one of the broken windows and over the cracked glass that lay on the floor. His rifle was held at the ready, as he walked through the building. He looked at the tills and isles, remembering the people that would have been walking carelessly through the store, the beeps and mindless talk that would have filled the air.
He walked towards the canned food isle making sure his foot steps fell with less sound than a pin dropping. Upon reaching the isle, he saw a few cans left, many were scattered across the floor. He stopped, with rifle across the knee and picked up a few. Soups mainly, a few beans and sausages, hotdogs and some cans of corn. He packed it all, cramming it into his backpack, making sure it was packed tighly to avoid making any sound. As he was zipping the bag up, he heard the crack of glass. Someone or something had stepped through the window. He contiuned to crouch, ears cocked and listening. There was no humm, no sound of machinery. It must be a Human. He swung the backpack onto himself and stalked to the end of the isle, he saw two very human figures disappear down another isle. Like a wolf on the hunt, he made his way after them, poking his head around the shelves; he saw a woman and a child. He followed, carefully and quietly, making sure to keep his distance.
They stopped part way into the shop and looked around, unnoticing of the man that now followed them. The woman looked panicked; she was cursing under her breath and mumbling to the child. The man, who had now deemed them to not be a threat stepped out, rifle held at the side and called to them. ?Hey, you. Wha? you think you doin? following someone ?round here? Stuff like tha?ll get you shot.? He said.
The woman spun on her heels and pushed the child behind her. She looked terrified. ?W-we thought you?d help us? You?re the first human we?ve seen here...in a while...? She said.
The man looked them over and shook his head. ?No can do lady, not even with a kid ? I can?t help you. Get yourself some food and head up the mountains, hideaway and stay quiet. Tha?s all I can give you.? He looked them over once more, should he really do that? He was signing their death warrants, without help they?d perish soon. He knew it. But with them under his wing, he?d follow suit.
The woman pleaded with him, raising her voice, she was creating a lot of noise and he had already thought of slipping away. The hunters would certainly have picked up the direction by now. He ignored the woman and walked to the entrance; outside the clouds were still hovering above them, the dim light still shone through, casting a dull grey over everything. The woman had followed him, looking over his shoulder. He ignored her words. Something felt wrong. Without thinking, he picked up a small piece of glass and chucked it outside. It bounced across the ground with a light ?tink?.
From a side-street infront of them it appeared. A giant machine, like a metallic gorilla. It looked towards the supermarket and its eye swiveled and focused on the three Humans stood before it. With an ear splitting roar, it lunged for them. With the speed only a hawk could match the man turned and sprinted, the woman and child in pursuit. They ran along an isle and crashed through the fire escape and into the car park. Looking behind as he ran, he saw the woman, child in her arms, several feet behind and appearing from the roof, the hunter too. His heart was racing, his lungs screaming yet still he ran, swerving between the cars. His rifle was useless against this machine. The rounds would do nothing but bounce off.
A sudden vibration in the ground sparked more panic; one of the craft was near. He hadn?t heard it. He cursed himself for his lack of care and sprinted all the more. Every muscle in his legs was screaming at him. A green glow appeared behind him as he crossed the street, making for a side alley. He heard a loud and fear filled scream, the hunter had grabbed the woman and child and chucked them into the green light. Slowly they hovered up. The womans cries penetrated to his very bone. He turned and looked at them, the fear spreading across her face. The child screaming, tears running down his face and arms and legs flailing. With two shots from his rifle, he silenced the Childs? screams and then the womans. It was the only mercy he could provide for them.
Stooping into the side-alley, he quickly looked around, a rooftop was no good ? The hunters could climb and jump much higher than he could ever dream of doing. Panicking, he looked to the floor and found his answer; a wrought-iron manhole cover lay at his feet. With great haste, he lifted it and slid down the ladder, making sure to cover it over again and slowly, he descended into the darkness. He stopped at the bottom of the ladder and took a second to adjust his sight to the darkness. His pupils expanded, to let more light in and after a few moments stood in the darkness, he could see atleast enough to make his way forward. Overhead he heard the rumbles of the craft and the hunter stomping around. Dust flaked from the ceiling as he moved. He kept the rifle in his hand at all times. Before the war had ended, the giant craft had released chemicals into the air it had made people go insane, turning them into midless husks of meat and he was sure they hid in dark places such as this.
He pressed forward, his breathing slightly eratic and his heart beating like a drum. His eyes darted left and right as he snuck through the sewers, looking down each of the circular tunnels as he walked. He avoided the trickle of water running through the system, standing instead on the edge of the tunnel, trying to keep noise to a minimum, which is harder done than said when your feet are slipping on the wet surface. After he had gone a hundred metres, or so he thought, it was hard to know in the darkness, he heard the rasp of breathing, though it was many times louder than a human. Turning a corner and looking into one of the giant rooms where all the water flowed too, he saw them. Gathered in semi-darkness and resting in a large group, the mindless stood. His heart was racing; sweat trickled down his forehead as he backed up. Every step could be his last, for he would not escape them in the tunnels.
As he stepped away, his mind began to race. He didn?t know where he was, he wasn?t sure which exit he should take and now, to make it worse, he was next to a hive of the mindless. He daren?t make a sound and he even cursed his thumping heart under his breath, for surely they would hear it. He backtracked and made his way along another tunnel, always checking over his shoulder. ?Damn that stuipd fuckin? woman and her brat...? He muttered to himself.
The tunnels seemed to have no end; they were like a maze of unending corners and never-ending straights. Finally after what seemed like hours of creeping and stumbling around in the darkness he found a ladder leading to the city above. Cautiously he clambered up and with a quick look around the passage; he rested his ear against the cold metal manhole cover. Above, all sounded quiet, yet he was not about to make the same mistake twice and with great care, he lifted the cover a fraction.
The sky had darkened, clouds were now a dark shade of green and the sun was nowhere to be seen. He raised the cover a few inches more and looked around. He was in the middle of an intersection. He saw no sign of the supermarket and all around him, the buildings stood like a concrete jungle. He must have been miles into the city. Not waiting to be devoured by those who dwelled in the sewers, he pulled himself up, after making sure the coast was clear ofcourse. Scuttling into the shadow of a buidling, he took his bearings. Looking around, he could see endless rows of towering concrete and steel and an endless line of blackened cars and other vehicles clogging the roads. He calmed his senses and pushed the panic to the bottom of his stomache, now was not the time to lose his head, in more than one sense.
The night was slowly creeping up on him and without the safety of his hideaway in the tree, he was becoming quite worried. The mindless would crawl out of the sewers at night and roam the city and he didn?t want to be there for that. Sighing to himself, he began to move in the direction he thought was towards his tree many miles away and, although he didn?t know it, his sense of direction was more or less correct. He crept along the pavement always keeping to the shadows, rifle at hand. No sign of the craft or Hunter he had encountered earlier came to his eyes, though this didn?t reasure him. They knew he was here, somewhere.
After walking along one of the streets, he stopped and took shelter within a burnt out building. A small, one story ruin and took another swig of water. His stomach began to rumble as he sat there and not wanting to be found out from the grumbling of his body, he searched his backpack for a can of sweetcorn. Opening it with his knife, he guzzeled down the cold contents of the can with a grim look on his face. He sat for a few moments, hand covering his mouth to stop himself vomitting. Then, again, he stood and continued walking through the deserted streets. The sky was still darkening and nightfall was coming. He wasn?t sure how much further the city edge was and whether he?d make it to his tree today, even if he did, he wasn?t sure about climbing it in the dark.
As he stumbled across another road and intersection, he heard a faint noise coming from a manhole cover. The mindless had woken. His eyes darted around and he saw his only hope. He ran towards a truck, which was parked near to a gas station and jumped onto its bonnet and climbed onto the cab. With a great leap, he found himself on the roof of the gas station. Not a brilliant spot, but if he covered himself well, he might make it to the morning and that was better than waiting to be torn to pieces by many hands and teeth.
That night, he got no sleep. The screams and cries of savagery echoed across the buildings. Every second he was praying that a Hunter or one of the craft didn?t make a sweep this way. For even the mindless where taken sometimes. Everytime he started to nod off, the womans screams bounced off his head and the terrified eyes of the child stared at him. He couldn?t shake off the feeling. He could have helped them; maybe he could have kept them alive. No, they were doomed. They made too much noise, if I hadn?t of ran when I did, I would have joined them in death, he reasoned. Still the feeling stayed, lurking in the back of his mind.
The morning came and gradually, the screams died down and the mindless returned to their dark corners within the sewers. The man peeked over the edge of the station and looked around the street. It looked clear. The screams where now but a distant chorus, slowly fading away. He crawled around the outside of the roof and looked over every edge of the building, making sure none were trapped inside the store or taking cover from the light in a ruin. Happy that the coast was clear, he packed up his bedding and swung his backpack onto his shoulder and slung his rifle and clung to the edge of the roof and fell to the floor, with a light ?thud?. With practiced ease, he slid the rifle into his hands and took a quick look around; noticing the fresh pools of bile that now littered the floor. The smell was almost unbearable and made him gag.
The morning sun was glaring through the clouds and cast long shadows along the floor. The man looked to the sky. Still the green clouds lingered and tinted the light, as they always would. He was just about to make his way along the battered road when he heard the tell tale humm of one of the craft. Looking again to the skies he saw it floating around, high above the towering buildings. He swore under his breath, the craft meant the hunters would be about soon. Searching the streets for any humans who had taken refuge, like the man, from the mindless. He began to walk with a quick pace, forwards, clinging to the buildings and hoping for the love of all things that he did not get spotted.
Stepping between cars, trucks and buses that littered the streets, he made his way slowly forwards. The constant humm keeping him alert. His ears were on fire, listening for the tell tale foot steps of a Hunter creeping along; his eyes darted across the skies, making sure he didn?t find himself within the pull of the green light. For a moment, he thought of playing hide and seek as a child, albeit it now if he was found, he faced the very real certainty of death. He laughed to himself, he was always the best at hide and seek, never could the other kids find him and though he often cheated and moved, he still blessed his days as a child. He then thought of his friends, many, possibly all of them, where now dead. His mood dampend.
The craft hovered over head, the green light slowly pursueing him, with no where to go least he be found, he crawled under the burnt out wreck of a car, holding his breath. The green light washed over the road, the cars. Everything turned a light shade of green and the humm rattled his teeth, every bone in his body shook as the craft scanned the area, he hoped the car would hide him from the fate that awaited otherwise. Although he only lay there for a few seconds, it felt like an eternity. Every breath could be his last, every second seemed to last a century. Finally, the light moved on and the green tint disappeared. He let out a sigh of relief. His whole body was shaking with fear; every muscle in his body was tensed. After a few minutes of lying underneath of the vehicle, listening. He crawled back out, checked over his rifle once and looked to the skies. The craft was disappearing behind one of the towering buildings.
He laughed quietly to himself, such is the way to deal with overpowering fear, and made his way along the road, careful to keep an eye on the sky. He looked into the windows of the abandoned shops, cracked glass lying at the base of the windows, walls blackened by fire. Remembering how it used to be. How many people went about their daily ordeals, wandering up the streets, rushing in and out of shops, cars beeping and hooting, and the screech of tires braking. It was strange to think that was only a few years ago, since then so much had changed. So many people had died. He cast the thoughts from his mind, for surviving was far more important than dwelling on the past.
He had only been walking for a few more minutes when he heard the thumping of the floor. No sooner had he stopped and listened, he dived to the side, pressing himself into the wall. If he had acted any later, he would surely have died, for at that moment a Hunter appeared. Standing nearly one and a half stories high and as wide as a battle tank, the machine stopped and looked around. Its giant green eye taking in the area, passing over every inch of ground save for the little nook where the man hid. The hunter moved forwards, whurring as it went, each step giving a mechanical clang. It looked as if it was sniffing at the air, like a predator seeking out its prey. The man shifted, to sit more comforably, as he did so a can in his backpack rattled and within a second the hunter had turned and focused its giant eye upon the corner where the man lay.
Panicking and with no other choice but to run or die, the man stood and sprinted. The hunter let out a loud roar, which would get the crafts attention and began to chase him down. Fear overwhelmed him and all sense sank from his brain. He turned to the only option left. Fight. Like Horatio, the brave Roman who had stood at the bridge and faced down an army of thousands, the man turned, unslung his rifle and fired. He put several rounds into the giant green eye and the machine flinched, it darted back as if in pain. His gun spat rounds at the machine; each found its way to the green eye. The machine shook with rage and pain, covering its head, if it could be called that, with its giant hand. Seeing his temporary grace, he turned and ran, empyting his magazine and putting it into a pocket, before slapping another one into place.
Before he had time to breath, the beast was upon him again. Now enraged at the pain this meatbag had caused it. The man ran, darting around the vehicles and sprinting as fast as he could. No one was here to save him, no woman and child to die for him this time. He turned and fired his rifle again, a few rounds found their way into the creatures eye and again it stumbled, rolling into a few of the cars. The gunshots echoed all over the city, the man knew he had to lose the hunter and escape this block, for many would come soon and then all hope would be lost. As always his brain was thinking fast and before long he had a plan, though he wasn?t sure if it would work, it was better than doing nothing and being taken to one of the floating craft.
The Gas station was a little way down the road and if he was clever, he could lure the machine to it. The hunter ran faster than ever, hopping over the vehicles and at one point, nearly catching the man. He dodged, tripped and rolled his way along the street, panic and sheer terror driving him to run faster than he ever had and everytime he felt the machine get too close, he loosed a few rounds behind him. He was out of breath, his lungs where screaming for air and his legs felt as if they were on fire, but on he ran.
The Gas station appeared as he rounded the corner and he knew what he had to do. Sprinting past it, he turned and peppered the machine and as it flailed its arms to stop the rounds hitting the giant green eye, it reared back into the station, hitting the pumps and rolled onto its back, crushing several of the pumps. The man looked in horror; the fuel must have dried up. With nothing else left for it and the faint humm of the craft coming back again, he lept onto the machines chest and emptied the clip into it. Screaming with rage as he done so. The rounds tore apart metal and ripped into a soft almost flesh-like material. The machine gave one last twitch and then fell silent. The man looked at the wound he had caused and watched as a black, oily substance began to leak from it.
Without a second glance he jumped off of the machine and ran, putting as much distance between himself and the gas station as possible. He ran without paying much attention to where he was going and soon the humm of the craft disappeared again. He felt lucky to be alive; he had taken out a hunter and lived to tell the tale. He patted down his pockets and felt for the remaining magazines for his rifle. His smile dropped. Two. Just sixty rounds and what was left in his current clip. Atleast until he reached his tree again.
The buildings where starting to become smaller and spaced further apart, he was finally reaching the outskirts of the city. Two days just for a food run. He was just about to cross the road when he heard voices. ?C?mon dude, there was gunfire back there? We gotta move, them fackin? hunters will be rovin? about now?
?No, we stay put brother, we go out there and we?re as good as dead...?
Two men were talking inside the building. The man stooped next to the window and slowly crept past. He could see the flickering of a fire and after a peek around the corner he saw a stash of weapons and food. These two had obviously bunkered down. Whether they were bandits, or friendly didn?t cross his mind. He didn?t need any more attention coming his way and so he crept on, leaving them far behind.
Finally after a long trek he reached the road that led to his tree. He stopped to rest, sitting on a rock by the road and took another swig from his flask. Watching as the clouds swam across the sky. He should have been thankful, he survived an encounter with a Hunter, a night surrounded by The Mindless and even dodged one of the large floating craft and killed yet another hunter, a feat he had thought impossible. Yet his mind was still caught on the woman and child he had met. He felt ashamed of himself. Angry that he had not done anything and even though his sense of survival had told him it was the only thing that he could have done, that without them, he would surely have been taken; his mind would not let him purge it of that thought. He kicked a stone in anger and watched as it bounced across the asphalt.
He stood, again and after stretching his legs a little, continued through the brush and out across the grass covered hills, following his previous footsteps back through the sickly brown grass. He struggled up the dirt mound and worked his way along the torn earth, careful not to fall and after an hour or so; he had reached the base of his tree. Clipping himself onto the safety harness he had left a few days ago, he began the ascent to his little refuge. He made his way half way up the tree before stopping and looking back down onto the cityscape, watching several of the craft now hovering over the towering buildings, no doubt searching for him. He thought of the two men who were sat in the building and whether they would see the night. He shook his head and continued to climb, finally reaching the top most branches and clambered to his little outpost.
The tree was huge and his base was in the cup of an almost hand like ring of branches, with enough space to lay a bed, or hammock. Above him, were several camouflaged sheets, hanging from the branches to keep water and the craft from reaching him, to his side more sheets lay to keep the wind out. It was almost homely. Food hung in bags, on the end of smaller branches or twigs that stuck out and clothes were hung over branches and from a line below the sheets above him. A little gas stove sat by the hammock and other odds and end littered the floor of the tree. Including a few old photographs, the faces of a woman with sharp features and a small child, both smiling appeared in a few. Others included a man, roughly the same age as him smiling and in some they were together either play fighting or sat at a bar, a few others included them all together, with many more people behind them. The man took one glance at these and glanced at the woman and child. He stood still for a second, frozen in place and out of time. He shook his head, pushed them under another stack and slumped onto his hammock.
There he lay for several hours, watching as the sun crept behind the clouds and the many shades of green flared across the sky. The leaves rustled in the light breeze and his hammock swung slightly. He dozed off as he lay there and entered a world completely different. He was still lying in his hammock, yet it was in a porch, his garden lay next to him. The sun shone strong and the air was clean, not a cloud littered the sky. The smell of fresh cut grass wafted over his senses and the shouts of children playing sung through his ears, cars drove along the road, their engines quietly drinking away at fuel. He lay there, eyes closed, listening to their voices, smelling the air and all too soon it ended. He awoke in his tree, tasting the dirty air and looked at the clouds painting the land a sickly green. He sighed, yawning as he done so. He didn?t realise how tired he was and how much his legs ached. He had ran more than ever in the past few hours and nothing tires you out like running for your life from certain death.
He tossed and turned in his sleep, faces were sweeping past as if caught in a great river. He caught glimpses of eyes, smiles and hair racing past though he didn?t recognise anyone. It had been so long since he had heard another human voice. So long without conversation, or interaction with another. He wondered if that had caused him to act the way he had at the supermarket, if maybe his dis-attachment from people had made him like a wolf. Quiet, secluded and removed from emotions. Strange shapes danced through his dreams, disappearing when he tried to make them out. He awoke with a start and sweat was pouring from his brow. The night was late and he heard the faint cries of The Mindless in the city below. Slowly, he fell back into a disturbed and uneasy sleep.
He awoke the next morning feeling tired, his sleep had been interrupted by many outbursts, each preceeded by another dream, or nightmare as they are rightly called. He rubbed his eyes and looked under his sheets; from the vantage point in his tree he could see the city below him. The craft were doing another sweep many miles away, slowly drifting in the distance. He sighed and stretched his joints, yawning as he did so. He glanced towards his water tank, or more correctly, barrel. It could hold enough for a few days and he had forgotten to fill it for some time. Tapping a knuckle on the side, he heard the tell tale sound of air. The barrel was nearly empty. His stomach dropped, he?d have to travel into the city again, or atleast near to it, for there were no rivers or streams next to the tree, yet that was a price he was willing to pay for the relative safety it provided.
Shaking down a bag, he gathered a few more magazines for his rifle, carefully counting out the ammunition inside. His supply of five-five-six was running short and he wasn?t sure how much longer his stache would last. If he was careful, and wasn?t come upon by The Mindless, he hoped for a long while yet. He didn?t plan to get into a fire-fight anytime soon. Having gathered his supplies and packed his rucksack with great care, as to avoid a repeat of yesterday?s incident with the Hunter, he began the long climb down his tree again. The morning sun was glaring through the clouds, casting the usual light shade of sickly green across the landscape.
