#34 - The Nightmare

“Ammo!” I screamed over the blasting shot being fired around me.

I remained positioned in a kneeling position, the Nightmare directly in front of us. Blobs of flesh and spikes, muscled and clawed arms, gnashing teeth, all quickly advanced on our position. Something cool was placed in my outstretched hand. I quickly gazed at it in amidst chaos for a brief moment moment; a fresh clip for my AK-47 Assault Rifle. I ejected the empty cartridge, it's clattering noise lost to the ripping of bullets around me. I slammed the thing in place and cocked my weapon, ready to attack.

“Cole, they're too close!” Annette cried from my right.

I briefly ignored the warning as I opened fire upon one of them. It was taller then the others; long purple appendages resembling arms jutting from it's fat center. Wet sloshing sounds of ripping tendons and skin was combined with the noise of my rifle. The thing let out a cry and fell to the ground with a wet slap.

“Everyone, on me!” I called hoarsely while standing.

The firing halted for a moment as I dove over the barricade we had erected. I felt the eyes of the Nightmare on me as the others quickly joined to follow. The nearest let out a gurgling cry of what I could only describe as anger. The tone sounded somewhere between a horse whinny and glass shattering.

“For the exit!” I barked my next order while continuing to fire at the oncoming onslaught.

I fired at a few key targets blocking the door of the area, to freedom. At seeing the nearest of them ooze to the ground, I rammed my back to the wall.

“Under me! Go! Go! Go!” I shouted while holding the gun at my shoulder.

Bullets continued to spray from my gun as person after person crawled beneath me to the open door.

Suddenly, something grabbed at my left leg. I called out in pain as I felt the thing squeeze impossibly tight, then attempt to drag me towards the encroaching mob of darkness. I began firing wildly, feeling my balance being swiftly torn away from me. Then, as quickly as it had occurred, the wet tongue-like protrusion slackened it's grip upon me. I looked down to see it resting beside my booted foot.

“Thanks, Ann,” I called out, already realizing my savior as she stood beside me.

“Cole! Go!” she called out, pointing her head to the door, “I'll cover you!”

I quickly looked to the door to see the civilians standing outside in wait. With one fluid movement, I darted out into the darkness of night.

I spun around to see Ann's situation. She was slowly edging out the building, occupying the massive Nightmare with shot after shot. Her weapon, a pump-action Remington 870 shotgun, clicked with an empty chamber.

“Shit!” I heard her curse while expertly placing the gun in it's holster upon her back and pulling out two 9mm pistols.

“Ann, get over here!” I ordered harshly.

“Working on it-”

She broke off as she let out a cry of pain. I watched in horror as a spike of unholy bone now protruded from her shoulder. She fell to the ground, the mass quickly advancing upon her.

“No, dammit!” I half shouted, half cursed under my breath.

I jumped into action. I ran for Ann with every last ounce of energy I had left and grabbed a hold of her. With one, fluid movement, I gripped the bony spike, ripped it away, and lifted her. While cradling her unconscious body in my arms, I quickly ran from the growling and groaning beasts.

“Servo, take a grenade off my belt!” I shouted at the broad-chested civilian standing fearfully beside me.

The Nightmare was a mere thirty yards away from us.

“What?”

“Take it off and throw it at them!” I screamed as Ann's weight pressed down on my arms uncomfortably, “just do it!”

He quickly unlatched one of three grenades I had secured to my belt and stared in the direction of our advancing enemies. He pulled the pin, seeming to be in a trance. He was hesitating.

“Servo! Throw it!”

It left his hand as he lobbed the thing as hard as his adrenaline-laden muscles would allow. I could hear it clang as it hit the ground.

“Take cover, everyone!” I cried while picking my feet up in a run.

A small hunk of debris was my only immediate shelter. My knees smacked the pavement of the broken road as I hunched over, Ann's body pressing against me tightly. The sound ripped through my eardrums, followed by the noise of monstrous agony. I continued to press Ann to me as pieces of bleeding flesh struck my back and head, the area growing an eerie quiet around me.

#33 - The Good Word

“Where is that goddamn priest!” Harry called out in a thick accent, “We got goulies all over the place!”

He was shouting into the receiver of a simple walkie-talkie, his spittle flying in the direction of the speaker. All around them, the sickening noises of the undead rang out. The other survivor, Paul, jumped a bit as he heard the long drag of determined fingers scrape at the wall he was currently pressing his back to. He took a brief moment to take in their surroundings; a dark and simple room, a splintered couch currently pressed to one of the doors. He watched as it shuddered again and again, as if alive. He knew that hundreds of decomposing monstrosities were clamoring against the makeshift barricade. It would not hold long.

“We got him comin', Harry,” came a response after what seemed eternal, “Jus' hold tight.”

“Hol' tight?” he roared in response, “I got an active feeding group right on ma balls, man!”

An impossibly bright light suddenly illuminated the two boarded windows and the area beneath the doorway. A sudden, intense daylight appeared to be shimmering from the other side of the room.

“That him?” he muttered in the radio.

The area suddenly grew very silent. The couch halted it's maddened chattering.

Paul jumped a second time as the front door fantastically exploded from it's hinges, tossing the old piece of furniture away as if it were made of paper. An imposing figure was present at the newly opened passage. Paul squinted his beady eyes to see through the brightness.

“God have mercy upon you, my son.”

The simple chant was followed by another loud boom that shook the foundations of the old building and set one of the walls aflame. As Paul's eyes steadily adjusted to the light, he began to see details. The figure wore a long, white coat, complete with toughened, bleached boots. A ponytail decorated the figure's back; a light amber color.

“Well, I'll be damned!,” Harry whooped, the radio at his side, “Le's get te hell outta here, man!”

The figure stepped inside. Paul could feel judging eyes upon him.

“Come,” it spoke in a deep, refined tone, “Let's leave this place.”

“Good idea enough fer me!” Harry exclaimed while rising to his feet.

A force collided with the man in white. Paul winced as he saw one of them, it's skin long rotten and eyes putrid and unfocused. It clawed at the man's elegant robes with a frenzied vigor.

“I say to thee, rest.”

The creature burst into a white-hot flame. It screamed and instantly released it's hold upon the man before settling into a pool of filth upon the floor. Paul watched in awe as the man withdrew two long firearms of some sort. Two more horrid, twisted shadows leapt into the room. Two piercing sounds later, both were writhing upon the ground. The man moved forward, toward the door. It was time to go.

They emerged from the household; a fresh pile of scorched, smoldering corpses met Paul's eyes. The sight hardly phased him anymore.

“There's more of them,” came the voice of their savior, “Let's go.”

They ran from the building and into the night. Paul bit back a shout as several more bounded toward them from up ahead. The robed man stopped a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Take with you to Heaven.”

The area before them instantly exploded in intense light. The galloping attackers seemed to vanish in a mist of reddish-black.

“Man, I could get used to this,” Harry chortled in response to the impressive display of power, “Where do you folk learn these crazy things, anyway.”

The man unprecedentedly glared at Harry. Paul could almost feel his back stiffen.

“This is not a gift,” he replied with a narrowed gaze, “We fight our brothers so that you can live.”

He continued on then, Paul having to sprint to keep up.

#32 - *Exerpt from Pandemic, a novel*

The further she got down the hall, the more foolish she felt. Her hand rested at her side once more, another smile creeping along her pouted lips. She was merely imagining things, she thought to herself. It would defy the laws of logical thinking for something to suddenly-

“Sarah-?” a voice sounded from somewhere down the hallway.

The voice had a certain timbre to it. It had a sloppy, wet tone, as if the person was attempting to speak while underwater. It sounded unnatural.

“Doctor Rean?” she called out in answer, her feet picking up in a run.

He was a nice, older man that had taken her under his wing the day she began working. He showed her around the building, as well as taught her some of the subtleties of her fellow coworkers. She had enjoyed the old man's company, even considered him a friend.

“Please help me,” she heard him say again as she rounded the hallway, directly before Cell C.

Her hand immediately covered her mouth, to avoid screaming. Dr. Rean Was slumped against the wall, his eyes looking up into her's.

In the least, his eye sockets were.

His once wrinkled, yet healthy looking skin was now blanketed with sickening lesions and black necrosis. Blood covered his body; she knew well it to be his own. Trails of gooey, reddened paste oozed from his ears, nose and eyes. He opened his mouth to reveal a swollen, blackened tongue.

“Help me,” he repeated the plea, that past wetness to his voice now evident as more of that same red goo crept from the corners of his lips.

Sarah took a step back, her back pressed against the wall. Dr. Rean got on his hands and knees, more wet sloshing sounds reverberating from his body. It was as if he was liquefying.

“It's so painful,” he managed to say while crawling to her, “help me.”

She shook her head from side to side. He was beyond any kind of assistance.

“I can't,” she said, “I have to go.”

She attempted to step past him, but he grabbed a hold of her calf. His hand was slick and puffy.

“You can't leave me-”

She kicked his hand away and quickly ran past him. She stopped a moment as the horror of the full event set in, as her eyes settled upon Cell C. Hand shaped blood prints coated the walls. A desk was overturned, papers and glass spilled upon the fluid stained floor. Both of the lights were shattered above. Long cracks ran down the inside of the door. It looked bowed out in specific areas, more blood and other strange liquids splashed upon it.

“Sarah!” Rean had shouted behind her.

That same timbre, blended with his tone of utmost urgency, caused a shudder to crawl along her shoulders. She dare not look at him; she was amazed that her stomach hadn't contracted already. She swallowed down a glob of unpleasant tasting saliva and ran for the stairs.

She ignored Dr. Rean's cries slowly fading away as her feet clattered noisily upon the concrete of the stairwell. She jumped from the third step leading to the bottom and quickly rounded a left.

What had happened? How could it have escaped, let alone do that in such short time?

The cherry red receiver hung from the walls just a few paces ahead. Sarah practically leapt for it. She ripped it from the handle and pressed the plastic to her ear. The ringing, a drone of monotone sound filled her head, calming her and slowing her racing heart.

#31 - Humans and Gorats

Humans and Gorats were never seen with one another. So why was it that Shelly had asked one to dinner?

The thoughts went through his mind like a freshly filled mug. There was no way that she could find him attractive. It was just a nice gesture, he thought as he smoothed the messy knot of black hair that hung from his narrow forehead. He gazed upon his lanky frame in the long mirror, taking a moment to grab at the comb atop the counter and work out some tangles in his tail. He felt that his skin was never quite as vibrant a green as it was today. He smiled a bit, pulling back his top lip and inspecting his pointed teeth.

He left his home and hunched down on his hands. A warm, late afternoon summer breeze flowed through his long hair as he began bounding down the sidewalk, toward his destination. All along the way, he saw Humans. Each shared the same look as they took notice of him; as if they were just offered a mouthful of liquid cement.

Sometime later, a larger building loomed in the distance. A large red sign printed near the top of the establishment read, “John's Mega Burger.” Nervousness began to tap into his psyche as he continued to run. What would the other patrons think of someone like him invading their space?

“Merkas! Hey!”

He saw her. She was waving to him just outside the building's entrance, a large and genuine smile decorating her beautiful face. His heart thumped in anxiety as he stood to his full height and approached her.

“H-hey,” he stammered out while his eyes fell to a few nearby people.

She grabbed at his arm with a smile, the two of them wordlessly entering.

The meal was wonderful. He had never set foot inside such a place, and the sight and smells were all new to him. He made good conversation with Shelly, her aqua blue eyes trained upon his the entire night. They had a secluded table, likely from the mere fact that he wasn't one of them.

“So then,” he was attempting to finish a joke between a myriad of chuckling from both him and Shelly, “He couldn't find a single thing in the store!”

She threw back her head at the completion of the tale, her chest heaving in laughter. It made him smile to see her having such a good time with someone like him.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said while absently picking at a spot upon his brow.

Her eyes fell back to him. Her intent stare caused something to leap within his throat.

“Why did you ask someone like,” he cut off while leaning forward, “like me?”

She giggled. He felt his heart turn.

“Because you're a good guy, Merkas,” she announced while taking a look around her, “People don't understand that someone isn't who they are based on what they look like. I'm glad that I asked you to dinner tonight.”

Her hand found his upon the table. He swallowed hard as he cradled her smaller fingers within his own.

“But what about all the wars,” he went on to say, “All that stuff that happened to cause so much dislike toward me and my people?”

She shrugged, her hand giving his a small squeeze.

“You weren't any part of those wars,” she said curtly, “Doesn't mean that you should be judged and looked at as a monster because of what happened so long ago.”

He smiled, his eyes locked upon her's. He watched as she shifted her weight. She began to lean forward. His heart thumped madly. Her lips pursed forward. He fell forward quickly in a jolt of confidence.

“You see?” Shelly said as their noses bumped together in his haste, “you aren't so different after all.”

With a soft hand, she guided his chin to her's, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss.