Whispers...

The tenth entry in End of Days...

Whispers…

I checked the old calendar. October 14, 2019, I thought. That was five years ago, so it was 2024. I picked up Robert’s knife and sheathed it as I chucked my broken knife across the room, the clang of metal against tile frightening Trooper. My hands flew over my mouth like a gas mask as I sat in thought and despair. When Jackson had been working for Robert, he double-crossed me and pretended to shoot Robert. He was obviously back and better than ever because he got into my locked safe-house and then went through my traps without setting any of them off.

I clicked the mag out of my pistol and counted each bullet. “It’s not f*****g enough!” I screamed as I kicked the wall. I had lost the sniper rifle in The Empire State Building. My brain hurt as I thought of ways to get more ammo. I could kill risers and loot them, make sure they don’t have any on them, I could try to retrieve the sniper, or I could go out and scavenge buildings.

My head lifted up in anger as I opened the door of the coffee shop, locking it, and walking out, looking at the Statue of Liberty, destroyed, crumbling. It seemed as it had a grim expression on its face, looking over The Orthodox with distaste and disgust, us humans acting as animals do.

A small growl signaled a riser coming my way as I turned right and saw nothing, then I looked down. A small riser missing its legs was crawling towards using its upper body to pull towards me. My legs carried me over to the creature and I bashed it in the head with my gun. It fell to the ground as it stretched a frail arm towards me. “Come on boy,” I commanded Trooper.

As he came with a skip in his step, I had an insane memory. The Pentagon, I thought. I needed to get there, and fast. I had the horse, which I named Quake, and he was pretty fast. It was settled. I would use Quake until I found a suitable car. A day later, I was saddled up and Trooper at my side, ready to run. “Go!” I commanded Quake, whipping the reins.

He zoomed past everything as I dug my heels into his sides as we went faster and faster, Trooper barely able to keep up. He panted, saliva flying all over my face. I laughed a hearty laugh and whipped the Quake’s reins again. As we rode across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, I took a deep breath of musty air, scrunching my nose in disgust. I turned back, and took in the burning city, a tear coming from my eye, running down my cheek, and splashing onto my jacket, soaking in.

2 days later…

I fell off Quake as risers tore at his outer thighs, I scooted away on my butt, frightened at how quickly they accumulated, and watched in horror as they tore chunks out of Quake’s muscular horse frame. Minutes later, he lay deceased; stomach ripped open, leg torn off, and hair mangled. I looked up at the city limit sign. Harrington? I’m getting close. I thought.

9 hours later…

I lay still in a pile of dead risers, covered in blood, as a military reconnaissance group passed me up, equipped with assault rifles and full riot gear. They were quiet and swift, poking the bodies with the barrel of their guns, and jogging away, trying to catch up with the others.

A dark haired soldier grasped my wet shoulder, and turned me over, cringing in disgust as he stared at my face. He raised his rifle and attempting to pull the trigger, enraging me, and causing me to pull the gun out of his hands, punching him in the face, causing him to fall unconscious, silently falling on top of me. Minutes later, the soldier was smeared with riser blood and stripped down. I looked at my SWAT mask, and put it on.

The other soldiers looked at me, and nodded nonchalantly. I smiled in success and walked on, rifle in my hands. “We need to get back to General Sharp men.” The leading officer exclaimed. I adjusted my helmet and marched toward the Pentagon wall with them, the wall coming into my vision. The soldier to my left looked at me and smiled, giving me the A-Okay symbol.

I returned the gesture and walked on, entering the massive building. A few minutes later, we were in the war room, General Sharp giving a lecture of safety precautions. “SOLDIER! TAKE THAT S**T OFF YOUR HEAD!” He screamed, pointing at me.

“Yes sir.” I agreed, tightening my grip on the rifle. Instantly, I jabbed Sharp in the face with the butt of the rifle and fired on another soldier, the bullet entering his cranium and hitting the wall. Blood splattered all over Sharp as he fell to his knees. The soldiers beside me uppercut me and restrained my arms.

“Pullin’ a fast one ‘eh?” Sharp stated. He backhanded once, then twice, then three times, each smack causing blood to fill my mouth. I spit it all over his boots in rage. “Get this blood tested, Sarge. Make sure he isn’t one of those Infectees.” He replied with a wicked grin.

“F**k you…You…B***h…” I replied hoarsely. He backhanded me again, my head speeding to the left quickly. I could feel the blood seeping through the mouth hole in the mask.

“Now, let’s see who’s under the mask, shall we?” He said tauntingly as he harshly pulled my helmet off with his massive, boney fingers. He threw the mask aside in disgust at my face. I scowled as one of the soldiers stuck a needle through my forearm, extracting blood with it.

“STOP!” I screamed. Sharp raised an eyebrow and laughed heartily. The soldier stood at a panel, squeezing my blood into a bag, which led into the machine. I waited a long time, and finally something popped up on the massive screen. I looked at the formula and recognized the special enzyme that protected me from the infection. A bead of sweat dropped from my forehead and onto the soldier’s fingerless glove. I looked around the circular room with stairs to my back and a balcony all around, with a long desk in the middle.

“Sir,” the soldier whispered,” He’s one of them…” Sharp grinned tapped his foot on the tiled floor, thinking.

“Bring in the pets,” He said, a twisted smile on his face. He adjusted his green camo jacket and wiped the sweat from his forehead, his white skin shining in the light. A door opened and a riser on a leash came from it, shambling towards me on one leg, growling and squinting its torn eyes.

I tried to scoot back from it but the soldiers held me in place as the riser came closer and closer. It was two feet away when it came to strike. Instead of me, it ripped the flesh from one of the soldier’s neck, causing him to scream at the top his lungs, and fall to the ground. My arm free, I punched the other soldier in the neck. Clutching his esophagus, he fell to the tiled floor.

“HEY!” screamed Sharp as he pulled a gun on me. I stood still, arms still bound to my back. “Let’s get you to the ‘dungeon’ shall we?” he exclaimed. “You’ve caused enough trouble here, boy.” He grabbed the back of my neck, crushing my shoulder blades together and pushing my hands into my thighs. He hit me in the head with the pistol and my vision became blurry.

I fought to stay awake as he carried me to wherever he was taking me. Finally, he threw me on the ground and screamed something too echoic to hear. As my vision became clear, I looked up, looking into many people’s eyes. “Hello…” said one of them as he pushed through them. It was Dylan. “Long time, no see?” he asked as he unbound my hands and helped me up.

He looked frail and withered as he pulled me up, tears in his eyes. “Joaquin, Daniel, and Angela are dead. Sharp killed them…” he sobbed. I looked over his shoulder and saw many others, shaking, crying, or just plain dead. My head ached from the gun and I shook my face to stay alert.

A man pushed through the crowd as I clenched my head and grinded my teeth from the pain. When it drifted, I looked up at the man in front of me. I was staring into the eyes of the Devil himself.

Robert…

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