Tag Archives: apocalypse

Running – Chapter 2

Her legs hurt. They burned like a fire that refused to go out. Her feet were weights secured to the two narrow pieces of string that were her legs. She was too afraid to look back, if she did she was sure that she would stop. Stop to look at the monstrosities coming towards her. Stare in horror as cold, dead hands reached for her and grabbed her. The thought of them gaining ground on her kept her positively terrified, so she ran. That’s all she knew how to do. That’s all she could do. The darkness threatened to overtake her, to devour her torch and leave her in darkness. The torch was fighting desperately in a battle against the dark, and it was losing. As she ran along, she shook her torch with the sheer force of moving forward, bouncing the small light ray she relied on against the sewer walls around her. The cobbled floor beneath glinted at her. She did not dare step near the edge of the narrow platform which separated her from the sewer water, she did not want to know what hell lurked there. How long had she been running for? A few minutes? An hour? It was impossible to tell. All she knew was that she was getting tired, fast. She wouldn’t be lasting much longer. Her hope faded, and she started slowing down, getting herself ready for the horrors behind her.

A light appeared. At the end of the tunnel, it was barely visible because of the distance, but it was just visible. Her eyes lit up brighter than her meagre light source and she put on an extra burst of speed, using the last of her energy for the final stretch. She panted, her chest heaved, her body begging for her to stop moving. The light grew brighter and larger as she got closer, and she caught her first glimpses of the sun…


“Damn it…” mumbled Zach. “Another wasted hour.”

A lone figure stumbled out of a small house, kicking a nearby stone as he passed by it.  The stone half rolled, half bounced along the pavement, finally stopping at a garbage bin further along the street. He swung his bloodied baseball bat over his shoulder for the umpteenth time. “Did the people here discover some new way to gain sustenance or has food just gone out of fashion…” he mumbled to himself. He ambled along the road, ignoring the dried blood all over the walls of the houses around him.

The sky was a pale, cloudless blue. The sun was unrelenting, trying it’s hardest to send more unbearable heat his way. If the infected didn’t kill him, the late Summer would. It was hot, humid and Zach was sweating more water than a running tap. He reached the stone and kicked it again, sending it skittering over the cracked tar of the road. It bounced and stopped at the edge of the pavement, startling a nearby crow. Zach watched it spasm its wings and flap its way to the top of the house next to him. It turned to eye him with a dark, spiteful glare. He chuckled and kept walking.

These days, the loud caws of nearby crows were the only traces of life that made him sure he wasn’t the last living organism on Earth. He hadn’t laid eyes on a person in a little while. A normal person anyway. He found solace in kicking stones following them, looting houses along the way. This was his new way of life, and hell did he like it. Call it what you will, but he called it adventure, albeit with the risk of a painful and horrible death. At least it was better than the life he had been living before this mess.

He reached his stone again but hesitated in kicking it. He realised he was at the bottom of a slope, and kicking the stone wouldn’t get it over the slope. The uphill road obscured any vision he had ahead of him, so he had to get over it, but he wanted to keep his stone. Rolling the mental dilemma in his head, he realised something. Using the tip of his worn out runners, Zach flicked the stone up in front of him, and swung with all his might with the bat in this hands. The stone soared over the hill, setting him running after it. He reached the top of the uphill climb and was astonished at what he saw.

The line of houses that he had been walking alongside ended abruptly at the end of the street. He had the choice of either going left or right, or straight. What troubled him was what lay ahead of him. The ground ended where he stood and dropped steeply, curving a few meters down and finally coming to rest horizontally. The slope repeated on the other side. Poking out of the slope at the other side was a large opening, looking like the cross section of a pipe. A large grate hung on its side on the pipe-like opening, sprinkled with rust and peppered with dents, as if it had been recently been driven into several times. The inside was cut off by darkness, but the occasional glint of water flashed at Zach’s eyes. He squinted his eyes and raised his hand to the sun to block off the light, managing to see a small flow of water dripping out of the pipe and into the large space before him. He saw something poking out of the water just beside the pipe, and for a moment he caught the flash of something golden…

Running – Chapter 1

My first post, possibly going to try and continue this when I can. Apart from that, enjoy and please give feedback!


The world went to hell in the short time span of a day.

A more average morning couldn’t be found at any other time.  The streets were packed with commuters, and noise could be heard for what seemed like miles. Smoke marred the sky, a sign of the beginning of another productive day. If looked upon in a birds eye view, the city would be nothing short of a living, breathing throng of people dressed in suits. Now and then the occasional horn of a car would sound, triggering more than a few brawls, but that was normal. The traits of a busy city. If only the unaware city-goers could savour that moment of routine for a second longer.

A scream signalled the start of the outbreak. A loud, terrifying shriek that would chill even the coldest of men. Blood spurted onto a nearby graffiti covered wall, painting a new kind of art known as death. The bystanders had no idea what was going on. Nobody knew if it was a performance of some sort, some of the poor fools clapped at the woman’s doom. The woman of course just kept screaming, until it got to her throat. Then her legs gave way, and the bystanders clapped even more, attracting it’s attention. The poor fools.

With that, order was broken. Snatched away by them, shattered in the cold, dead hands of them.

The outbreak itself was by no means the worst part of this. Soon after the outbreak came the gangs, terrorising the populous and taking advantage of the panic. This was their glory moment, at least that was what the insane ones kept chanting while the ones with a speck of sanity ran like Satan himself was on their heels. Their little facade lasted little more than a few minutes, maybe at the very most an hour, before they got overrun as well. You can still see the remnants of the gangs splayed along the empty streets or splattered on nearby walls, as long as their killers allowed even that much leeway in their feeding.

The gangs may seem pathetic, but at the time they really were powerful. Deaths from the infection were only rivalled by deaths from the gangs. They tortured their victims as well, worse than the infected did. At least the ones that took death from the cruel hand of the gangs didn’t move after they died.

After the gangs got overrun, survivors grouped together, some from the shattered gangs that had ran. Every move made was one made by the groups decision and the groups decision only. That was if you were lucky enough to be in a democratic group. The unfortunate ones were stuck with gang leaders that somehow survived, the dictators that commanded the groups like slaves.

Even after all this, it still wasn’t as bad as the next disaster.

A deep feminine voice from the sky had reached ears of anyone that still had ears. At first nobody knew what it was, then we saw the soldiers. Then we knew. In the minute that spanned over the talking, utter silence ensued, as if the infected had shut up to listen. Of course, it was general crap about “remaining calm” as they eloquently put it, but the last part really got us. The firebombings were coming. The city was being quarantined, and survivors were to head to areas where the military had control of to be checked and “saved”. After two weeks, a series of incendiary bombing devices were to be dropped on the city, eliminating all organic life. The broadcast ended, and the silence continued for another minute.

The city was a deserted, barren, industrialised wasteland. The buildings looked out of place. The streets were coated in a deep red. Fires illuminated patches of smoke, bathing the city in a demonic red-orange light. Well, at least it fit the blood.

And that is how the city fell, and how my life began.

-End chapter 1