At least it wasn't how all his preachers and Sunday school teachers had described it. Sitting in church pews clawing at uncomfortable ties, all those years ago, Ian had formed a pretty clear picture of what was "suppose to happen." Going to church had been a tradition in his family, up until his mother passed away, Ian's dad just didn't seem to have the energy to make it after she was gone. The church they had attended was a large one always full of people singing and laughing. He always remembered the church as being a place of joy, love and peace. Finding himself once again in a church after all these years, Ian couldn't help but notice the differences.
The sounds of screaming had stopped days ago. No one had the energy anymore. Now it was just the muffled whimpers of soft crying. The church sanctuary was filled to near overflowing with refugees, but no one complained of the crowding. Most would say the feeling of another person squeezed against them was comforting. At least there was still some comfort left.
Ian stood at the entrance of the church in front of a broken stained glass window, the distorted image of Saint Mary. A hole in the middle of her chest provided him a view of the world outside. It was a dark starless night, but the moon on its own showed more than he really wanted to see.
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Fires dotted the country side, growing in number the closer to the city his eyes traced. The city itself was visible only as a flickering glow over the next hill. Squinting in vain through blackness, Ian wondered to himself how large those flames must be to create such an effect.
It had been two weeks since the world went to hell. The shattered landscape gave evidence of some of the problems. Aftershocks from the last major quake were still frequent, each time the ground gave a little rumble the refugees' eyes would go wide. Ian had seen a twenty story building crash to the ground. It had been surreal, almost slow motion, a ripple had started at the base spreading all the way to the top, windows shattered as the wave of concrete spread, culminating with a horrible screech as the metal supports snapped and the building tumbled to the ground.
A low growl of thunder turned his eyes upwards. The sky hadn't been clear since everything started, and the constant storms seemed too vicious to be natural. Gales of wind would burst without warning downing trees and flinging loose debris around dangerously.
Ian had never been one to cower at a storm, even when he was young. He used to watch lightning storms with his father. His dad would bring him out onto the minuscule deck of their third story apartment, and count the seconds between the blinding flashes and claps of thunder. At 21 years old he had still loved the cooling touch of the wind on his face and the thrill that went down his spine each time the thunder would crash... that is until these storms. His mind had been changed when, to his horror, a man was smote down by a blaze of white while seeking shelter under an awning, it had been like the lightning had sought him out, ignoring the buildings and trees to hunt down something living. The blast had been so strong it had melted all the rubber from the man's designer shoes. That pungent, stomach turning smell from his sizzled flesh still burned in Ian's nose days later.
The sound of shouting pulled Ian away from the window. A group of people were yelling at a new family of refugees from behind the main doors. As Ian approached he quickly understood the conflict. "You can't stay here!" a tall thin man with glasses yelled through the closed door to the refugee family outside. Ian didn't know the man's name, but it was the same man who had met him at the door when he had arrived at the church. It had only been a few days before, but he was no longer the kind man who had ushered Ian into this sanctuary.
"Please my son needs food. Don't make us go back out there!" the muffled pleas of the father came back in reply. Ian could see a little boy clinging to the mans leg.
"I can see your eyes from here!" the thin man yelled back. Through the window Ian could see the blood red of their sclera, the tell tale sign of infection. "If I let you in everyone here is dead. I am sorry, but you have to leave."
Defeated the man took his wife and child's hands, and turned back down the broken street. Ian's chest clenched as he watched the small child cough up a handful of blood. They won't last the night...
The tall man turned, seeing the look on Ian's face, he grimaced. "You know its true. It had to be done..."
Ian nodded sadly, "I understand." Looking back out the window Ian watched the family slowly moving away, slipping out of view around a bend in the road. Ian's eyes caught on the spot of blood still staining the road. "Who would have thought it would come to this? What kind of world is it if we can't even help a dying child."
The tall man stood there dejectedly, his arms hanging limply at his side. "It's the only world we have left... a damned one." Turning the man walked away and slumped against a wall, quietly studying the floor boards.
The look on that man's face was mirrored in nearly every person there. Hope was gone. How could people be expected to live in a world like this, scraping by in the aftermath of total disaster. No. It's worse than that. Ian lamented as his gaze fell on the wild eyes of the latest addition to the church's cast of refugees.
"YOU MUST ALL REPENT!" The shout rang out from the filthy old man standing in the corner. "THE DEMONS COME TO DEVOUR US ALL. NAUGHT CAN SAVE US BUT THE LORD ON HIGH!
"Shut your damned mouth!" a young woman snapped back at the man for the third time in the last hour. "It's bad enough without you reminding the kids about that!" The man's eyes were wide ready to shout a reply, but harsh looks from several men in the room, and he fell quiet again.
It might have almost been funny, a crazy person shouting about the end of the world, if it weren't probably true. After everything else, the natural disasters, that horrible disease, the general collapse of society, even after all that, people might have been able to get by, but then they showed up. As a last violation, the crescendo of the Apocalypse, creatures had begun to appear. Monsters, demons, beasts, the name didn't matter. They were here to find the survivors... to end what was left of this nightmare.
After those things appeared the last doubters were gone. Everyone knew then exactly what this was. This was the end, Armageddon, just as the bible had foretold. But it wasn't what the bible had foretold. Ian thought once again, shaking his head. This isn't how it was suppose to happen. There was no rapture, no reprieve for the religious. The disease struck saved and sinner alike, the demons walked by crosses and devoured alive those praying for help at the alter. This was no proof of God, only proof of hell.
Ian turned from the entrance-way, walking slowly back into the sanctuary. A small hand slipped into his as he entered the crowded room. A faint smile managed to grace his face as he bent down to hug his little sister's small form. "How are you holding up Liv?"
The large hazel eyes looking up at him were red from the tears of another night spent crying. Ian's heart ached at the sight of her. Brushing her soft chestnut curls back behind her ear, he kissed her forehead gently. No child should have been put through this. If God exists, he is a sick being indeed. "Let's find you something to eat, okay?" The small girl nodded up to her older brother, now the only person in the world she could look to for protection.
After their mother had died, Ian had felt it was his responsibility to take care of his sister. He had never minded the job. With his dad busy with work someone had to keep an eye on her, to make sure her spirit stayed strong. Their mother had died when Liv was still very little, but the energy the small girl exuded with her every smile was just like the glow he remembered seeing around his mom, and it was the only thing that had kept Ian going long before the rest of the world had started to fall apart.
Ian led her to a back room, where a small food bank had been. No one cared enough to even bother to guard it. There wasn't much left, but Ian managed to find a can of creamed corn and a knife to open it with. The two orphans ate in silence sharing the cold slop with eager mouthfuls. After finishing their "meal" Ian found them a place to lay down, wedged between a snoring elderly man and a single mother of three. The grating whines of the woman's toddler kept sleep from Ian, but in minutes the seven year old, Liv was fast asleep, emotional exhaustion forcing her into a fitful rest.
Ian stared down at her, lost in thought. What are we suppose to do? Staring around at all the hopeless faces, he doubted if there was any happiness left. He looked down at the knife he had used to open the can. Slowly he turned it over again and again in his hands. It was a hunting knife, worn down designs were carved into the wooden handle, a serrated edge on the blade. His eyes drifted back to Liv, It wouldn't be the first time. The thought mulled slowly queasily in his mind. How many suicides had there been since this all started? Hell, how many suicides had they seen since they found this church? Ian shook his head and slipped the knife into his belt. As he finally started to nod off, one last thought filled his mind. I will protect her as long as I can.
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Thick gray matted the sky, even at noon, the sun's light hardly pierced the looming cloud cover. Thunder rolled in the distance like a deep growl, threatening to strike at any moment. The land was little more than a swamp, mud and standing water littered the ground, clues of the constant storms that had beaten the area for the past week.
Rayne trudged through the muck, fighting for each step. The earth itself seemed determine to swallow her whole. At last she collapsed from exhaustion, with a sigh she closed her eyes. "Why am I even trying? Where am I trying to go? Is there anywhere that's any better than every other place I have been?" She whispered to herself. Rolling over onto her side and curling into a ball she fought back tears. "It's not like I had much to live for even before all this... maybe I should just give up ... lay here till something kills me."
She smelled them before she saw them. Dead bodies smell a lot like raw meat, and in large amounts it can make just about anyone's stomach crawl. The monsters liked to wear fresh kills on their backs it was one of the few things people were able to use to avoid the beasts, because you could always smell them coming... not that running usually helped much.
Rayne laid trembling in the mud, to scared to breath. There were two of them lumbering along. There was no specific form that defined what a demon would look like, but it was impossible not to know one when you saw it. They were the creatures that haunted your nightmares as a child, sadistic monstrosities that even Hollywood couldn't have cooked up. One of the creatures resembled an extremely obese man, rolls of fat shook with each step it took, it lacked a head, instead its stomach was splayed open revealing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. The other stood over ten feet tall, massive arms rippling with muscle dragged the ground as it walked. Three inch long spikes sprouting from all over its body, the top half of a young woman was impaled on its shoulder, her eyes still wide with shock, her mouth frozen in an eternal scream.
They were too close to run from, Rayne's mind raced as she watched them get closer and closer. As her eyes locked with the impaled woman's horrific stare she could only muster a single thought I don't want it. I don't want to die. Not here not like this, NOT NOW!" But death walked towards her none the less, ignoring her mental screams. There was no where to hide, no where to run, and not even a knife to defend herself with ....or end it before the torment they would certainly inflict.
After a moment they stood over her, the fat one's hoof like foot sunk deep into the mud beside her head. Then they took another step, clearing her body and proceeding through the swampy field. Laying there covered in filth she was indistinguishable from the sludge around her. As they continued on their way tears began to stream down her face. I do want to live. No matter what kind of life it may be... or how long it may last.
CRAAAACK!!!!!!!!! A sudden flash streaked across Rayne's vision followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Rayne shrieked at the sudden strike, clapping her hands over her mouth a second after it left her lips. The two monsters froze, turning slowing to look towards her. The bloodshot eyes of the spiked demon locked with hers and she knew they saw her. Tearing herself from the mud she ran with everything she had.
Fires dotted the country side, growing in number the closer to the city his eyes traced. The city itself was visible only as a flickering glow over the next hill. Squinting in vain through blackness, Ian wondered to himself how large those flames must be to create such an effect.
It had been two weeks since the world went to hell. The shattered landscape gave evidence of some of the problems. Aftershocks from the last major quake were still frequent, each time the ground gave a little rumble the refugees' eyes would go wide. Ian had seen a twenty story building crash to the ground. It had been surreal, almost slow motion, a ripple had started at the base spreading all the way to the top, windows shattered as the wave of concrete spread, culminating with a horrible screech as the metal supports snapped and the building tumbled to the ground.
A low growl of thunder turned his eyes upwards. The sky hadn't been clear since everything started, and the constant storms seemed too vicious to be natural. Gales of wind would burst without warning downing trees and flinging loose debris around dangerously.
Ian had never been one to cower at a storm, even when he was young. He used to watch lightning storms with his father. His dad would bring him out onto the minuscule deck of their third story apartment, and count the seconds between the blinding flashes and claps of thunder. At 21 years old he had still loved the cooling touch of the wind on his face and the thrill that went down his spine each time the thunder would crash... that is until these storms. His mind had been changed when, to his horror, a man was smote down by a blaze of white while seeking shelter under an awning, it had been like the lightning had sought him out, ignoring the buildings and trees to hunt down something living. The blast had been so strong it had melted all the rubber from the man's designer shoes. That pungent, stomach turning smell from his sizzled flesh still burned in Ian's nose days later.
The sound of shouting pulled Ian away from the window. A group of people were yelling at a new family of refugees from behind the main doors. As Ian approached he quickly understood the conflict. "You can't stay here!" a tall thin man with glasses yelled through the closed door to the refugee family outside. Ian didn't know the man's name, but it was the same man who had met him at the door when he had arrived at the church. It had only been a few days before, but he was no longer the kind man who had ushered Ian into this sanctuary.
"Please my son needs food. Don't make us go back out there!" the muffled pleas of the father came back in reply. Ian could see a little boy clinging to the mans leg.
"I can see your eyes from here!" the thin man yelled back. Through the window Ian could see the blood red of their sclera, the tell tale sign of infection. "If I let you in everyone here is dead. I am sorry, but you have to leave."
Defeated the man took his wife and child's hands, and turned back down the broken street. Ian's chest clenched as he watched the small child cough up a handful of blood. They won't last the night...
The tall man turned, seeing the look on Ian's face, he grimaced. "You know its true. It had to be done..."
Ian nodded sadly, "I understand." Looking back out the window Ian watched the family slowly moving away, slipping out of view around a bend in the road. Ian's eyes caught on the spot of blood still staining the road. "Who would have thought it would come to this? What kind of world is it if we can't even help a dying child."
The tall man stood there dejectedly, his arms hanging limply at his side. "It's the only world we have left... a damned one." Turning the man walked away and slumped against a wall, quietly studying the floor boards.
The look on that man's face was mirrored in nearly every person there. Hope was gone. How could people be expected to live in a world like this, scraping by in the aftermath of total disaster. No. It's worse than that. Ian lamented as his gaze fell on the wild eyes of the latest addition to the church's cast of refugees.
"YOU MUST ALL REPENT!" The shout rang out from the filthy old man standing in the corner. "THE DEMONS COME TO DEVOUR US ALL. NAUGHT CAN SAVE US BUT THE LORD ON HIGH!
"Shut your damned mouth!" a young woman snapped back at the man for the third time in the last hour. "It's bad enough without you reminding the kids about that!" The man's eyes were wide ready to shout a reply, but harsh looks from several men in the room, and he fell quiet again.
It might have almost been funny, a crazy person shouting about the end of the world, if it weren't probably true. After everything else, the natural disasters, that horrible disease, the general collapse of society, even after all that, people might have been able to get by, but then they showed up. As a last violation, the crescendo of the Apocalypse, creatures had begun to appear. Monsters, demons, beasts, the name didn't matter. They were here to find the survivors... to end what was left of this nightmare.
After those things appeared the last doubters were gone. Everyone knew then exactly what this was. This was the end, Armageddon, just as the bible had foretold. But it wasn't what the bible had foretold. Ian thought once again, shaking his head. This isn't how it was suppose to happen. There was no rapture, no reprieve for the religious. The disease struck saved and sinner alike, the demons walked by crosses and devoured alive those praying for help at the alter. This was no proof of God, only proof of hell.
Ian turned from the entrance-way, walking slowly back into the sanctuary. A small hand slipped into his as he entered the crowded room. A faint smile managed to grace his face as he bent down to hug his little sister's small form. "How are you holding up Liv?"
The large hazel eyes looking up at him were red from the tears of another night spent crying. Ian's heart ached at the sight of her. Brushing her soft chestnut curls back behind her ear, he kissed her forehead gently. No child should have been put through this. If God exists, he is a sick being indeed. "Let's find you something to eat, okay?" The small girl nodded up to her older brother, now the only person in the world she could look to for protection.
After their mother had died, Ian had felt it was his responsibility to take care of his sister. He had never minded the job. With his dad busy with work someone had to keep an eye on her, to make sure her spirit stayed strong. Their mother had died when Liv was still very little, but the energy the small girl exuded with her every smile was just like the glow he remembered seeing around his mom, and it was the only thing that had kept Ian going long before the rest of the world had started to fall apart.
Ian led her to a back room, where a small food bank had been. No one cared enough to even bother to guard it. There wasn't much left, but Ian managed to find a can of creamed corn and a knife to open it with. The two orphans ate in silence sharing the cold slop with eager mouthfuls. After finishing their "meal" Ian found them a place to lay down, wedged between a snoring elderly man and a single mother of three. The grating whines of the woman's toddler kept sleep from Ian, but in minutes the seven year old, Liv was fast asleep, emotional exhaustion forcing her into a fitful rest.
Ian stared down at her, lost in thought. What are we suppose to do? Staring around at all the hopeless faces, he doubted if there was any happiness left. He looked down at the knife he had used to open the can. Slowly he turned it over again and again in his hands. It was a hunting knife, worn down designs were carved into the wooden handle, a serrated edge on the blade. His eyes drifted back to Liv, It wouldn't be the first time. The thought mulled slowly queasily in his mind. How many suicides had there been since this all started? Hell, how many suicides had they seen since they found this church? Ian shook his head and slipped the knife into his belt. As he finally started to nod off, one last thought filled his mind. I will protect her as long as I can.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thick gray matted the sky, even at noon, the sun's light hardly pierced the looming cloud cover. Thunder rolled in the distance like a deep growl, threatening to strike at any moment. The land was little more than a swamp, mud and standing water littered the ground, clues of the constant storms that had beaten the area for the past week.
Rayne trudged through the muck, fighting for each step. The earth itself seemed determine to swallow her whole. At last she collapsed from exhaustion, with a sigh she closed her eyes. "Why am I even trying? Where am I trying to go? Is there anywhere that's any better than every other place I have been?" She whispered to herself. Rolling over onto her side and curling into a ball she fought back tears. "It's not like I had much to live for even before all this... maybe I should just give up ... lay here till something kills me."
She smelled them before she saw them. Dead bodies smell a lot like raw meat, and in large amounts it can make just about anyone's stomach crawl. The monsters liked to wear fresh kills on their backs it was one of the few things people were able to use to avoid the beasts, because you could always smell them coming... not that running usually helped much.
Rayne laid trembling in the mud, to scared to breath. There were two of them lumbering along. There was no specific form that defined what a demon would look like, but it was impossible not to know one when you saw it. They were the creatures that haunted your nightmares as a child, sadistic monstrosities that even Hollywood couldn't have cooked up. One of the creatures resembled an extremely obese man, rolls of fat shook with each step it took, it lacked a head, instead its stomach was splayed open revealing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. The other stood over ten feet tall, massive arms rippling with muscle dragged the ground as it walked. Three inch long spikes sprouting from all over its body, the top half of a young woman was impaled on its shoulder, her eyes still wide with shock, her mouth frozen in an eternal scream.
They were too close to run from, Rayne's mind raced as she watched them get closer and closer. As her eyes locked with the impaled woman's horrific stare she could only muster a single thought I don't want it. I don't want to die. Not here not like this, NOT NOW!" But death walked towards her none the less, ignoring her mental screams. There was no where to hide, no where to run, and not even a knife to defend herself with ....or end it before the torment they would certainly inflict.
After a moment they stood over her, the fat one's hoof like foot sunk deep into the mud beside her head. Then they took another step, clearing her body and proceeding through the swampy field. Laying there covered in filth she was indistinguishable from the sludge around her. As they continued on their way tears began to stream down her face. I do want to live. No matter what kind of life it may be... or how long it may last.
CRAAAACK!!!!!!!!! A sudden flash streaked across Rayne's vision followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Rayne shrieked at the sudden strike, clapping her hands over her mouth a second after it left her lips. The two monsters froze, turning slowing to look towards her. The bloodshot eyes of the spiked demon locked with hers and she knew they saw her. Tearing herself from the mud she ran with everything she had.
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