Hopeless...

The ninth entry in End of Days...

Hopeless…

I touched my bandaged face as I wept. You’re a monster, my mind kept saying. You’re horrifying, it whispered. Half of my lips were burnt off and several decaying teeth shown yellow through the blackened skin. I looked back at the remaining survivors of the crash. A man named Bobby Hernandez, a woman named Angela Azrael, and a little boy named Jake Chucker. I choked on blood and spit it into the dead, dry grass.

Dylan shuffled my way and said, “I’m sorry about your face, John. It’s alright, you’ll get used to it.”

I looked into his eyes angrily and screamed, “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW! IS YOUR EYE POPPING OUT OF ITS SOCKET? ARE YOUR TEETH GOING THROUGH YOUR SKIN? IS YOUR SKIN CHARRED AND PEELING AWAY? NO! SO DON’T TELL ME EMPTY PROMISES YOU B*****D!”

He took a huge step back, stepping in my blood, and shrieking, “How dare you! I should have never given you the controls! You crashed our ticket out of this shithole!”

I opened my mouth in protest, but stopped. “Dylan, look…” I whispered as I pointed over his shoulder. He turned around and gaped at me, then back at the horde of risers, aimlessly stumbling towards us. “Hide!” I half whispered. Dylan and I hid behind the thick oak trees around us as the risers made a sharp right turn into the plains ahead. We were safe, for now…

“John, we should check the plane for survivors. I swear I heard grunting coming from the cockpit.” He proposed.

I thought about it for a moment, mulling it over in my mind. If we found anybody, it would be more mouths to feed, yet we could use the extra hands. “Alright. Let’s go before it gets dark. I don’t wanna deal with risers at midnight.” I coughed. I picked up my gear bag from the wreckage, miraculously unscathed by the fire. My hand reached in and I pulled out my blunt hunting knife, my ASP pistol, and my last mag. “Let’s make this count.” I said to Dylan, who nodded in return.

We stacked up on the damaged doorway and went in, aiming left and right with our guns. I spotted a riser in the corner eating one of the corpses and I shot it in the back of the head, causing it to fall on one of the corpse’s ribs, impaling it. It gurgled blood and went limp. I ran to another riser and stabbed it in the solar plexus.

A hand grasped my shoulder and I quickly elbowed the owner. A sickening crack echoed through the plane as Dylan doubled over and splattered blood all over my face and clothes, burning my skin even more. He raised his hand quickly and said, “Its ok, just a broken nose, nothing too bad.”

He got up, cupping his dripping nose in his hand, scowling. I looked at him apologetically and he nodded in approval. We moved up to the cockpit door and breached it. I went left and Dylan went right, aiming our guns at everything that moved, which was quite a lot. As I saw familiar faces, my gun lowered and I smiled.

Everybody that lived the crash was there. I held out my hand to help each individual up. I heard a click and my head turned to the source, Dylan cocking his pistol, ready for another fight against the undead. “We need to go south people! To the pentagon!” I screamed, ready to bolt. “Three! Two! One! GO!” I yelled, running at top speed south, passing up risers and animals alike.

An hour later, we were all out of breath and heaving, so we rested, building a fire for warmth. As I sat down, a high-pitched shriek filled the air, and a mustang ran out of the woods, whinnying here and there, and stopped at my feet, nuzzling my shoulder with its nose.

“Take it John! We’ll catch up! I’ll see you at the pentagon!” screamed Dylan as he nailed a riser in the forehead with his knife. I turned to the horse and jumped on, pinching its neck, causing it to lurch forward. I held onto its neck as hard as I could, clinging on for dear life as risers clawed at my legs, growling in rage. I pulled out my pistol and shot on in the body, causing it to fall over.

Suddenly, the horse bucked me off and I flew a couple feet forward, face planting into the dirt. I got up and quickly ran with all my might, the horse following me. I dispatched a riser and took its torn jacket for a saddle, ripping the collar and sleeves off for reins. I fitted it to the horse as I ran, throwing the jacket over its back, jumping on, and slinging the reins over its neck.

I cracked the reins and the mustang ran faster through the plain and into the forest, riding swiftly through the trees. I ducked my head under the branches passing over my head as one grazed my burnt skin. It must have been the end of winter in New York because the snow was melting. When we made it into the city, back from wherever we had been, I heard animal like whimpering.

I jumped off the horse, with a grim expression on my face, suspecting a riser or a deer. But instead, I saw a puppy eating out of a dented, moldy trashcan. I couldn’t see what it was eating, but it was obviously from a riser. A mass of dark blood and torn grey infected flesh lay in a heap at the back of the overturned trash can. The dog turned my direction and growled, barring its teeth at me, circling my location. It was a Siberian Husky, and it was pissed. I put my arms to my face as it pounced towards me, eyes filled with hate and teeth covered in blood.

It stopped abruptly and sniffed me up and down, inspecting me with its black, mangled nose. I pulled my arms down slowly, and patted him on the head, resulting in him jumping on my chest, and licking my face all over. I finally had a friend, and a damn good one too. My green eyes filled with tears as I thought of Kevin dead in my arms looking up at me, lifeless. I stood up swiftly and put my hand to my chin thinking of a name for the puppy.

“Trooper, that’s your name now boy! Come here!” I screamed as he romped about in the mud, dirtying his paws and sleek white fur. Trooper ran for me, pouncing on my chest and knocking me down onto my back, and licked my face again. “We need to leave,” I told him. He just stared straight ahead and panted, then ran around a corner, abandoning me in the streets.

“Wait!” I yelled as I held out my hand. I sat for a couple of seconds filled with grief, when I heard growling and snarling. I turned the corner where Trooper had ran through and saw him attacking a riser on the leg, biting deep into the creature’s skin, a look of anger and defense on his face. Right when the riser saw me, it pulled itself forward and fell onto its chest, as Trooper bit into the back of the creatures neck, killing it. I looked at Trooper with a small grin on my face.

2 Years Later...

I sat squatted on top of the Empire State Building with my broken hunting knife on my belt, and Trooper at my side. I needed food. I hadn’t eaten or drank for 2 days at all. The sniper rifle clicked as I loaded it with bullets and scratched my burnt forehead. The burns had healed slowly, the color changing from black to a dull red. My eye still pulled on my skin, trying to escape the burnt socket. I looked around at the desolate city I labeled “The Orthodox” to establish that this city is destroyed, mutilated, and most of all, dead.

I aimed the sniper down from the crumbling rooftop and locked onto a particularly nasty looking riser. My finger pushed slowly on the trigger, until I felt the kickback of the barrel. The riser’s head flew backwards and bounced a couple paces, leaving blood patches on the cracked pavement. The body’s knees buckled and fell on its side, laying still. “Yes! Headshot! I’m getting pretty good at this s**t.” I screamed into the burning rays of summer. My eye caught a green glint in the distance and I turned right, facing the Statue of Liberty.

There were the sounds of propellers and screaming as a chopper flew from behind a building, started smoking and spinning, and crashed into the crumbled and aged statue’s arm, breaking it off and causing it to fall into the ocean, along with the helicopter.

As the explosion expanded, I put on my SWAT mask and held my breath, hearing for screams of help or pain. I listened for a long time, but nothing happened as the chopper burned to a crisp. What is it with all aircraft coming into this area crashing? I had no idea. I looked at Trooper and he tilted his head in confusion.

I ruffled his ears and jumped down to the ledge I had built myself so I could get back into the building, unscathed. Trooper jumped with a creak and the boards splintered, cracking and causing Trooper to fall. Just in time, I caught his paws and pulled him up. He trembled and curled into a ball, whimpering. This place is too dangerous, I thought.

An hour after the incident, we were on the ground and calm. I walked to the safe-house, which I transferred to a coffee shop since the last year. It had plenty of coffee and small snacks I could use until I ran out, and had to search. Of course, Trooper didn’t need food as he ate risers I killed.

As I turned to my right, Trooper walked calmly next to me, tongue flopping back and forth, panting. I grinned and chuckled hoarsely as I opened the coffee shop door and stared at the bloody mess left for me on the floor. A knife stabbed into the back of a riser that looked similar to me, containing a letter too. It said, “I live. I am coming for you to crush everything you love and hold dear. �"R”

I crumpled the not in my bloody hand and threw it to the ground in rage and shock. I knew exactly who did this. It can’t be. He’s dead. Get your s**t together, I thought. I thought on it for a while and it all made more sense then.

Robert…

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