AN: This parody story is a labor of love. I wanted to create something truly unique in the LitRPG genre, and hit upon this idea a while back, even before Blackthorne to be honest.

It is an apocalyptic world-turn-game setting, but designed to be a turn-based tactial RPG where the survivors have to make moves during combat and their movements are restricted.

Since the premise is so different, almost unique perhaps, it may not go over well. So, I need to see how the first volume is received. I need to rewrite large chunks of it to add more story since a lot of the 10 chapters already written for it are training and combat with a bit of shouting and humor. The second and third chapter will be posted today as they are largely ready. They won't be quite as lengthy as the first chapter. I'll try to get 2 chapters of this story up per week till the end of volume one. We can see if it is well received from there. :)

It is highly important that I receive feedback on this story, as without solid feedback, I may scrap it in favor of more time-tested plot devices. I love the concept, though. So, all I need is input from other people as to whether it is actually FUN TO READ. :)

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Chapter 1: Survival Strategy

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The world and all that resides within it had continued on in its normal manner since time immemorial. The disparate members of humanity had lived their lives by the habits of their cultures and climate. In some parts of the world people lived like their ancestors did over one thousand years ago. In other parts of the world people reached for the stars and men had even stepped foot on the moon.

Many were the customs and lifestyles of the peoples of the Earth. Some enjoyed their lives more than others. For some, the day to day grind of living can be seen as a farcical example of how life likes to take a supreme shit all over their plants.

A blistering series of curses echoed through the air on a rural North Carolina highway. Cows in a nearby field glanced over toward the source of those foul sentiments while they chewed on their grass and enjoyed their lives. One might wonder why a creature who spent all of their time eating and shitting before being loaded up for slaughter might be having a better day than the one who cursed. Ignorance was bliss, the cow knew it and accepted it. Sadly, a man did not always have that luxury.

Today was not a good day, not for Scott Keen. His girlfriend had left him for another woman. He had been late for class, due to the bullshit surrounding the fact that his girlfriend had left him for said woman. The dick professor had banished him amid the laughter of his so-called peers. On top of all of that, his shitty little scooter had decided to crap out on him halfway home. Stranded, bereft of well-endowed girlfriend and education, he could only rail at the heavens for a moment. And he did so.

“This shit, seriously. What else is gonna happen today?!” railed Scott to the heavens. He stared defiantly up at the clear blue sky, his fist raised up confidently to emphasize his point.

The heavens responded by unleashing a powerful thunderclap followed by a sudden torrential downpour. It was as though god had decided to take an epic piss on him to cap off his day.

"Fuck!" snarled Scott as he threw his hands over his face and tried to sneeze out the water that had run down his nose. The rain might have been falling in drops, but it felt and looked more like sheets of oppressive liquid that were meant to drown him.

He gripped the handlebars of his scooter and started pushing as the rain beat heavily down upon him. There was a gas station up ahead, it was a few miles away still, but he had stopped there often in the past. He could dry out a little and try to see what was wrong with his scooter this time. There always seemed to be something wrong with the thing. He had bought it new, and had been damned proud of himself. Less than a year later it broke down, and continued to do so once every few months. If anything it was overdue for another round of siphoning off what little money he had.

After a good two hours of dealing with the heavy downpour, Scott managed to push his scooter under the shelter that covered the gas pumps. As soon as he did so, the rain began to let up, and the oppressive storm clouds began to disperse. It was not long before a magnificent, perhaps even glorious, rainbow appeared in the sky overheard. Birds flew lazily through the sky and all seemed perfectly right with the world.

Scott glared at the hateful, if beautiful, rainbow bastard for a moment then sighed loudly. “It’s like the world decided to royally fuck me over today, for some reason.”

Soaking wet and as angry as a badger with irritable bowel syndrome, he slogged over to the door to the convenience store. He stood before it a moment then sighed. At least he could get a sandwich or something. This particular store also had a little side-grill where they made hotdogs and barbecue sandwiches.

He opened the door and headed inside. At first there was nothing strange about the quiet atmosphere inside of the store. There were usually only a few people milling around at this time of day. It was not yet time for the lunch rush that would cause the small store to become an overflowing sea of hungry people with little patience, though he was cutting it close.

Scott thought to go get a drink first and turned down the next aisle so that he could snag one from the drink coolers at the back of the store. He stopped cold, however, when he looked down and saw someone lying on the ground. It was Gladys, the cashier who also worked the grill. She often worked alone at this time of day. Her throat had been torn out and her stomach had been ripped open. Strangely, there was little blood coming from her wounds.

“Shit!” Scott rushed forward and knelt to check her. Maybe this was some sort of prank? That would explain the lack of blood. The moment that he reached out to check her for a pulse, her eyes snapped open.

Scott should have been happy to see that she was alive, but what he saw scared the hell out of him. Her eyes were wrong, inhuman. The irises were a golden-amber color, like a wolf. The sclera of her eyes was a bright red color. The pupils had become narrow slits like a serpent.

“Meat!” snarled Gladys before lunging upward toward Scott. He instinctively hurled himself backward and narrowly avoided having his throat ripped out by her jagged teeth. Her mouth now bore teeth much like a shark.

Gladys flopped over and rose up on all fours like a dog. “Meat!” she snarled before she shambled forward.

Scott rapidly scooted back on his ass kicking against the floor with his feet in a desperate bid to escape the insane shark-toothed monstrosity before him. He pulled items off of shelves in the process, and then knocked over the end-cap display that was loaded down with cans of beans.

Gladys was knocked about the head with dozens of cans of beans, and to Scott’s great surprise she was temporarily distracted. He managed to get to his feet during the confusion, and made a mad dash for the door.

Rather, he tried to do so but something even more terrifying occurred. He found that he could not move. Suddenly, a blaring sound blasted out from unseen source. It rapidly became something akin to a heavy metal guitar solo mixed with electronic dance music. While the music played and he remained frozen, a bright blue light washed over him from somewhere behind him. The light continued outward for a good distance. Through the door glass he could see that it stopped a short distance beyond the gas pumps and seemed to be in a semi-circular shape.

A strong masculine voice reminiscent of a movie announcer cried out, "Scott Keen versus Gladys the Ghoul! Fight-o!"

He heard a loud moan from behind him followed by the sound of something being dragged across the floor. It was accompanied by the sound of metal striking metal, the cans had been knocked against something.

The sound of movement stopped, Scott regained his ability to move and he instinctively tried to run forward. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and another sort of liquid threatened to run down his leg. Unfortunately, he was only able to take a single full-length stride before he froze in place once more.

Immediately afterward he heard the sound of movement once more. Gladys was coming ever closer while he was frozen in place. He found that he could speak despite the fact that his body was frozen. "God dammit! What the hell!"

His body was once again capable of movement so he took another full stride toward the door. Once again taking that stride ended with his paralysis. At the current rate of speed, he would need to take three more steps to reach the door.

A hungry snarl from behind him signaled that Gladys was once more on the move. He could not even turn his head to see how far away she was.

Unable to do anything in the ridiculous situation that he was in, Scott kept moving toward the door every chance that he got. He managed to reach it after three more rounds of paralysis. It became obvious that both he and Gladys were only able to move when the other could not.

Once his turn came around again he snatched the door open just in time to see someone running down the road with three people chasing after him. While Scott watched the bizarre scene Gladys moved toward him once more. Opening the door had counted as a turn.

He watched as a blue light flared outward from the ghouls and enveloped the fat man that they chased. It was just like what had happened to him when he had been confronted by Gladys.

Scott moved through the door and it closed behind him. He could not hear Gladys move, but he knew that she had to be taking her turn. He watched the fat man take a small step forward while the ghouls behind him each moved forward at twice his rate of speed.

Once it was his turn to move once more, Scott took a hard step toward the left without turning around. That allowed him to see the fat man moving in his own dance with death.

Five side-steps occurred before the inevitable happened. The fat man was snatched back by the shirt and the shark-like teeth of his pursuers tore into his flesh.

“The fuck!” exclaimed Scott in surprise as the slow-motion nature of the turn-based movements gave way to frantic struggling between the man and the ones who tore into his flesh. A growl beside him told him that the few turns that had passed while he tried to escape had been enough for Gladys to reach her feet and open the door.

The fat man screamed for help. Gladys screamed out in hunger. The three people chowing down on the fat man looked up, but did not leave their feast. They had frozen in place once more. Scott took an exaggerated step to his left to further distance himself from Gladys, and watched as the fat man feebly struggled to escape from the frozen monsters that gripped him tight. After a brief few seconds of struggle, he froze up and the ghouls began to tear into him once more. One turn later, the blue light disappeared from the fat man's area. The ghouls looked around and eyed Scott for a moment, but then turned back to their meal and continued to gorge themselves.

A loud moan reminded Scott that he would share that poor bastard's fate if he did not escape from Gladys. He had to get out of the area, and fast. The term fast was relative, of course. He could only take one step at a time.

Scott moved toward the blue light, hoping against hope that if he could reach it he would be able to escape whatever the hell was happening. There was no way he would survive if he had to move one step at a time.

He moved as quickly as he could toward the edge of the area, but to his horror there came a time when he felt an incredible sense of being tired overtake his body. When it happened, Gladys was able to move twice before he was able to move again. The blue light was close, but Gladys was getting closer. Each time he took a step, the exhaustion returned and Gladys took two steps toward him before he could move again.

She was three steps away before he reached the edge of the blue light, and one step away before he crossed through it. For a brief instance he did not realize that fact that he could move freely. Escaping the blue light had ended the situation. However, he knew better than to stay there.

His scooter was fucked, so he was forced to run off toward the hill on the other side of the store. Of course, actual running was out of the question. He was exhausted for reasons that he did not understand. All he could do was stagger away. Whatever was happening was beyond anything he had ever dealt with, at the moment saving his ass was the priority. He could worry about what was going on later.

After he staggered for a few seconds, the exhaustion lifted a little and he trotted over to the hill as quickly as he could before the exhaustion returned.

Slowly, due to the sense of exhaustion, he began to make his way up the side of the hill. He used the young pine trees growing there, saplings really, as hand-holds to help him make it up the somewhat steep terrain. Scott could not spare a moment to lack back to see what Gladys was doing as he had to focus all of his waning strength on pulling himself up the steep hill.

Halfway up, he heard a growl from down below. He glanced down and saw Gladys attempt to climb up after him. He breathed a sigh of relief when she fell down and hit the ground below. He had been right. She could probably run at a hard jogging pace like the others when she was not inside that blue field, but she was clumsy.

However, she was also tenacious. She righted herself and started up after him again. He reached one-third of the way from the top before the thing he had feared most happened once more. The blue light flared out and encompassed him once more.

Suddenly, everything became more difficult for him. If he tried to climb up, he immediately froze in place and Gladys got a free turn. Luckily, she was a terrible climber.

After a few attempts at climbing, Scott stopped and did nothing. He wanted to test something he had just thought about. A few seconds later, about ten or so, Gladys began to move. However, he did not freeze up. A sudden realization swept through him, he only froze up when he moved. If he waited a moment without moving, he would lose his turn. Yet, he was able to move in place a little without it being a problem.

The weakness passed after a few turns passed. Scott watched Gladys fall down once more, before he tried to climb up the hill again. This time he was able to move forward the equivalent of about one step before he froze in place. The exhaustion did not return, and when it was his turn again, he climbed up one full step.

Twelve turns later, Scott crawled onto the top of the hill and panted a little. After a few steps he had to start the recovery process over again, and now he was exhausted after the climb. He looked down and saw that Gladys had fallen once more. This time it looked like she had broken her arm, as it now hung limply at her side. Uncertain what else to do, he decided to kneel there and rest for a few turns in the hopes that he would regain enough strength to walk out of the weird blue field of energy that caused the problems that he now faced.

A few turns passed and took the weakness with it. He rose to his feet, but did nothing more. Scott stood there a moment while he watched Gladys carefully. He was partially hidden by the older trees at the top of the hill, so he took that time to consider what he needed to do. Where did he go? Was it like this everywhere?

Once he felt like he was fully rested he took another step and left the blue field. There was only one place to go, his house. It was probably the safest location nearby since it made of concrete and mortar instead of thin wood and vinyl. He had gotten a good deal on the rent since it used to be owned by a well-heeled meth dealer who was paranoid about home security.

While he thought about his options he noticed something even more disturbing than half-eaten people with shark-teeth chasing after various members of humanity. Gladys’ supposedly broken arm shimmered slightly and then began to move around as though nothing had ever happened to it.

“The hell… That’s just…” He did not know what to call that, but it wasn’t right. What the hell was going on today?

It did not matter, he did not have time to waste on idle thoughts. He needed to do something, or he would die here like the poor fat bastard that he had seen. Scott glanced at the road beyond the convenience store. He could see the remnants of the battle before.

He looked at the leftover parts of the fatty then made a face. It was not because he disliked fat people. He could use a bit more exercise himself, if he was honest about it. No, he made a face because the uneaten remnants of the dead man chose that moment to struggle to its feet. It was not long before all four of the ghouls were moving toward his location at a steady jogging pace.

“Shit! Gotta go.” He turned and ran to the other side of the hill. Just beyond the hill was a short gap with a bridge, and then a continuous hilly area where various well-off people lived. There was a house on the far side of the hill in the distance, and he figured it would a good place to find help for now.

However, it was not long before he felt exhaustion setting in once more. Scott was forced to stop and take a moment to rest. He panted hard, even felt like vomiting a little. "Damn, I know I'm out of shape, but this is ridiculous!" He knew that he could run farther and faster than he did, but for some reason it was like he had been rendered feeble since the weird shit had begun. And so began a short series of hard walks and occasional rests. He found that if he just walked at a normal pace, he would be able to travel a little farther before he needed to rest. Running tired him out at a blisteringly fast pace.

As soon as he got within a distance of about three rounds worth of walking, a window on the second floor of the house shattered. Someone fell out and dropped heavily to the ground. Scott kept moving forward, whoever that was either needed help or he needed to get past them.

Before he took more than five steps, a new horror appeared before him. From out of that same second floor window a true monster emerged. It looked to be about the size of a basketball, and it had several tentacles. It floated in the air, suspended by some unknown mechanism.

Scott stopped cold for a moment. Shark-toothed hotdog vendors were one thing. This creature was flat out impossible.

He saw the person on the ground struggle to get up, but they could not. They cried out incoherently, and the eyeball took notice. It sluggishly floated down toward the person crying on the crowd then casually began to wrap its tentacles around them. The eyeball rolled back to reveal a massive mouth with large triangular teeth.

Scott gasped in horror then took a step to the right. He turned away from the grisly sight of a flying eyeball eating someone as they cried and moaned. He could not know if they were normal like him, or if they were like Gladys. It did not matter. He did not want to see that, and he had no intention of going to that house now.

He ran off to the right and did not look back. However, even from that distance he could hear the loud crunching of bones and the feeble screams of the dying. Thankfully, the eyeball either did not see well or he had been ignored in favor of the closer meal.

Panicked and out of breath, he slid down the side of the hill then headed toward a nearby river. If he was lucky he could get to the bridge and cross over to the other side. He was not that far from home, only a few miles. Though, that seemed like a much greater distance than normal.

After sliding down the hill, he reached the river back and started forward at a steady jog. Soon he stopped for a rest. Scott inwardly cursed his body and whatever bizarre thing had happened that caused him to become out of breath after only a short few steps when jogging.

He had never been the athletic type. He was not in horrible shape, but he had never really focused on body maintenance. This was the most running he had done since high school, but still it made no sense. Yesterday he had walked around the local mall for hours and never had this problem. Now it was like he had become an elderly man with emphysema.

The water in his shoes, a left over from the rain storm, had already started to rub his feet raw. His body was chaffing in various locations, and he was filthy from the climb up the hill. Yet, he struggled on despite the growing irritations.

Up ahead the bridge came into sight. It was not too far away, though there seemed to have been some sort of accident. There were cars everywhere and none of them were moving. In fact, no one was even honking their horns or shouting about the injustice of their inconvenient wait.

How had all of this happened so suddenly? He wished that he knew. He had wandered over to the park after leaving school. No one there had seemed to be having problems. Had everything started from this side of town, or was something else at work?

Suddenly, a gurgling cry echoed outward from the water. Scott turned his head, and then wished that he had not. From out of the river crawled what could only be the love child of a crocodile and a professional wrestler. It was some sort of lizard man, green scaled, naked, and obviously hungry.

“Meat!” cried the hideous beast before rapidly moving toward him on all fours.

“Shit!” shrieked Scott before he started to haul ass toward the bridge. He was already tired, but somehow he forget that fact as he desperately sped his way toward his chance at salvation. Of course, the primal part of his brain that had responded to the sight of a bipedal crocodile man was also the part that forgot that he could not simply run as he pleased. Scott gave out of breath quickly and soon all he could do was stagger forward.

If he could get home, he could take a moment to think. That’s what he hoped anyway. Home was familiar. Home had food, clean clothes, and an assortment of things he might conceivably turn into weapons if need be. Out here was nothing but shark-toothed assholes, flying eyeballs, and lizard people.

Behind him the lizard man rose up on his hind legs. He hissed loudly and a set of frills opened wide on each side of his head. He began to chase after Scott on two legs, and somehow moved faster than he did when he was crawling on four.

Somehow, despite the exhaustion, Scott reached the stairway that led up to the bridge above. He took two steps upward then his eyes widened in fear as a yellow light flared outward to encompass him. Several of the shark-toothed assholes staggered around the corner at the top. Scott stepped down and ended his turn. A dozen more of the monsters seemed to appear out of nowhere as the closest stepped toward the corner of the bridge. None of them looked at him directly.

He knew immediately that the bridge was out of the question as an escape route. The loud moans and groans of the ghouls rose to a fevered pitch as dozens, and then what sounded like hundreds of voices began to cry out. He kept stepping away from them as fast as he could. His only hope was to escape through the shadows under the bridge by using his slight lead.

Lizard guy was not to be denied, however. He screamed out what sounded like a cross between a hiss and the word “Meat!” The shark-toothed assholes had not fully noticed Scott before, even though he did not know it. He had merely triggered their hunting senses and caused them to sense the presence of dinner. But the lizard man was a different story. They did clearly hear its cry.

“Meat!” snarled several of the vicious looking former people. They stumbled down the stairway as fast as they could, one turn at the time. By then Scott had already managed to make it out of their line-of-sight.

Scott did not stop walking away as quietly as he could, even though his sides began to burn and he was soon forced to stop for a few turns. Had he looked back, however, he would have seen a curious sight. The shark-toothed people and the lizardman began to fight each other. Each of them cried out for meat, and a bloody war ensued between them.

The lizardman was much stronger and faster than the half-speed former humans, but they had far greater numbers. The ghouls and the lizard soon met in battle. The moment their movements crossed paths a terrible fight began. The lizard's claws swept out with incredible force and easily disemboweled the closest ghoul, just before he swept his body around and perform a brutal tail sweep that broke the legs of his prey and sent it falling to the ground in a heap.

The battle continued on as Scott fled the scene one step at a time, the epic background music blaring all the while. Eventually, after eight of the shark-toothed monstrosities were slain, the lizardman was forced to retreat back toward the water. Its body bore many terrible wounds, but it survived and took the corpse of one of its opponents as a snack for later.

Scott broke free of the yellow light surrounding the area and continued forward at his normal sluggish pace. He left the bridge area behind and continued on in the relative seclusion of the fenced in walkway beyond. Unseen by what he thought were his pursuers, he did his best to move away as quickly as he could. The better part of half an hour passed as he walked along the secluded path, his eyes wary for the would-be signs of monsters. Once again, he was forced to rest for a moment after he reached a small cul-de-sac.

“Hey.” softly called out a voice from nearby. Scott stumbled a little and turned toward the sound, ready to make a run for it, or at least what he would consider to be a run.

“Don’t stand there. Come on!” exclaimed the voice with a little more excitement. It belonged to an older man who stood on the other side of a flimsy wooden gate. He wore thick clothes, despite the heat, and had what appeared to be a full backpack on his back.

Scott hoped that the old man would not turn out to be some psychotic monster. He had no choice but to go with him at this point. He was only a few miles from the convenience store, but he felt like he had run a marathon.

Through the gate and down a short foot path, they came to a small brick house. Both of them were forced to stop and take a moment to rest as they moved. It was then that Scott realized that he was not the only one who had been afflicted. “This way, we need to get inside.” said the old man after their short rest break.

Scott did not argue, and soon they were in the door and out of the immediate line of sight of any wondering monsters. Once the old man locked the door, he moved to a nearby coffee table and sat his pack down.

The old guy turned to Scott. “Glad to see someone else who made it.”

“Made it? What the hell is going on? What is all this?” asked Scott.

“No idea. About two and a half, maybe three hours ago the whole world went crazy. Mutant freaks started to pop up out of nowhere. They attacked people, killed 'em.”

Scott found it hard to believe that everything had started only that long ago. “How is it so widespread? I didn’t even know about this till a few minutes ago.”

“They popped up all over the place. That’s all I know. They attacked whoever was closest and if they killed them, the ones that died turned into whatever kind of thing that had killed them.”

“Shit!” Scott reached up and grabbed a hunk of his hair and pulled it in frustration. How had everything gone to hell so quickly? What was happening?

“Yeah, it’s a hell of a thing. You’re the first person I’ve seen alive since I left the grocery store.” said the old man.

Scott shook his head. “Same here. My scooter died on me up the road from the gas station just before the bottom fell out.”

“Got caught in the rain, too? I waited it out at the tackle shop down river a bit.”

“Be careful near the river. There’s some kind of crocodile guy in there that makes the people with the shark-teeth look pathetic.”

“Damn.” muttered the old man. He had not seen that, but he did not doubt it either. There were plenty of bizarre things happening today.

“I don’t think the city is a good place to be right now.” said Scott.

“Yeah, my thoughts too. I was planning to get my raft and head down river, but if there’s something in the water…”

“You’re going to want a bigger boat than a raft.” said Scott.

The old man sighed. “Can’t leave without my family anyway.”

“You have family around here? How far away?” Nothing was close by right now, but the longer the old man waited, the harder it might be to find his people.

“My niece lives in a house nearby.”

“It’s… It’s not on the big hill near the convenience store is it?” asked Scott.

“No, why?”

“Good. That place, I doubt there’s anyone alive there. I had to run up that hill to get away from a pack of those shark-toothed people. Someone fell out of the second floor window of that house when I got close, and a damned flying eyeball with tentacles came out behind them.”

The old man sighed. “That house, was it a log cabin style with a red roof?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Damn, a friend of mine lived there.”

“I’m sorry. Even if I could have done anything, they were too far away to get to in time.” said Scott. He frowned. "Especially now... Have you been having trouble moving around?"

“Yes. Everyone has who I've managed to meet. We all seemed to move fine till that blue light bullshit started. Anyone caught in it changed. Everyone else just kept on as normal."

"Shit. Wish I'd known that... Maybe I could have helped a few people I saw." Scott related what he had seen happen to the fat guy and the person who had fallen from the second floor window.

I don’t blame you. This, no one’s ready for something like this. Just managing to live this long is something.” The old guy sighed then looked up at Scott. “You got any family round here?”

“No. No one. My grandma mostly raised me, and she passed on a few years ago. Haven’t heard from either of my parents since I was a kid.” said Scott.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I loved my grandma. I don’t even know my parents. From what little I remember, I don’t think I missed out on anything.” Scott mostly remembered being hungry a lot, and occasionally being locked out of the house and being forced to sleep on the porch because his parents had friends over. His grandma always fed him, and he never once slept outside when he lived with her.

“Well, alright. What are you gonna do now?”

Scott shook his head. “My only plan was to try to get home and get some supplies, maybe scrounge up a weapon. After that, I have no idea.”

“Weapons don’t do much good. Those damned monsters out there? Those things heal from anything. I saw a cop blast one of those things in the face with a shotgun when this first started. Nearly blew its head clean off. There was this big damn hole right through the things’ skull. You could see through it. A few of us gathered round afterward, and one of us paid for it.”

“What happened?” asked Scott. He recalled how Gladys’ arm seemed to fix itself.

“The things’ head started shimmering, you know like light on the river? Then it was perfectly fine! Damned thing snapped its eyes open and leapt up at one of the people who had crowded round to get a better look. Not long after, everything went to shit. I hauled ass back here as fast as this tired old body would go, and brought whatever I could find.”

“Fuck. Something like that happened at the store. One of those things broke its arm when it fell down the hill. A few seconds later it shimmered and was fine.” said Scott.

“Yeah, so you know.”

Scott nodded. “I thought I was seeing things.”

The old guy shook his head. “No. You can’t fight those things, or at least you can’t kill them. You can slow ‘em down, but you have to keep moving or they’ll just take you down.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then the old man opened his pack. Inside was a small assortment of items, a first aid kit, bottles of water, and some canned food. “Not much, but it’s everything I could snatch up. There isn’t much at the house here, either.”

“We can’t stay here long. This place is crawling with things.” said Scott.

“Want to try and help me get my family? My son-in-law is on tour in Afghanistan, but my daughter and her little boy are by themselves.” asked the man, hopefully.

“Sure, you already helped me and I got nothing else going right now.” said Scott. “Name’s Scott by the way.”

“Dale, Dale Hardin.” said the older man. They shook hands then nodded. It was all the introduction that they needed.

“My daughter lives about a mile down river, but on the other side.”

“Can’t take the bridge. That place is swarming with hungry assholes.” said Scott.

“We’ll have to risk it with the raft, and hope that lizard thing you ran from isn’t nearby.” said Dale.

“Sounds good. Got anything we can use for a weapon? Even if they don’t stay dawn, slowing them up a bit would be worth it.”

“Yeah, I got a rifle, but not much ammo. I’ll take that, though. You can use something from the basement.”

“What you got down there?” asked Scott. He would rather have the rifle, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of experience with using one.

“Come and see. We need to get the raft and get moving anyway.”

They went down to Dale’s basement and unpacked his raft. It was a yellow inflatable vessel that did not give Scott much hope for success. Still, he felt like he owed Dale at least that much just for filling him in on a few basic things. If he died, then that would suck, but how long was he going to survive in this situation anyway? The city was overrun by invincible monsters that gleefully shouted, “Meat!” whenever they spotted anything human.

Scott looked around the basement for a moment. He saw various tools and a sledge hammer. Each of them seemed like a useable weapon. His gaze crossed something a bit more interesting and his eyes widened gleefully. It wasn’t a gun, but it would do.

He gripped the plastic handled bush axe and gave it an experimental swing. It had a long, solid-looking, and slightly curved blade. It was basically like a thick-bladed machete with a curved hook on the end, or a bill as some called it. Said blade was attached to a long light-weight plastic handle. He was well-versed in their normal use as he had used them often to help his grandma and for doing part-time yard work. “Fuck yeah.”

Dale chuckled. “Don’t blame you. If I was out of ammo, I’d want that one myself.”

Scott also spied an actual machete and grabbed it as well. “Might want that one too.”

“Right. We ready?” asked Dale.

“About as ready as we’re going to get.” said Scott.

They snatched up a few more supplies, some batteries and flash lights, along with a few other things, and stashed them in a pillow case. Scott carried that while he helped Dale get the raft upstairs. They checked around the house by peeking out the windows and did not see any monsters.

Soon, they were down at the river, the raft inflated and ready. The walk had taken longer than either of them would have liked since the weight of what they were carrying wore them out quickly. Still, they made it. They hopped on and used their oars to push out into the river.

Several tense minutes passed as they moved with the current. They paddled as swiftly as they could toward the far shore, as they did not want to be caught on the water of a lizard man attacked. Dying was probably inevitable, but at least on land they would have a fighting chance, at least when it came to running away. In the water they might as well swallow enough of the river to put them out of their misery.

Surprisingly, no river monsters attacked and they reached the shore. The current had carried them a good way toward their goal.

“My daughter’s house is just up ahead, about two roads down.” said Dale.

They gripped the raft and set out at a steady walk toward their goal. Everything went smoothly, despite the constant breaks they took, until they reached the first road. They were greeted by a loud cry of, “Meat!”

They dropped the raft and moved off as quickly as they could. They could always come back for it if they had to, after all. If someone took it, then hopefully they would make good use of it. Trying to take it with them now would be tantamount to committing suicide.

Six shark-toothed people stumbled down the hill and landed on the riverbank in a jumble of limbs. Several of them had obviously injured themselves, but it was not long before their bodies shimmered and they were perfectly fine.

“Keep going. We’re almost there.” said Dale.

Scott did not say anything, but he did try to pick up the pace. He slowed down enough to keep in step with Dale, however, once he started to out-distance him. He didn’t know exactly where they were going, and he did not want to leave the old guy behind.

“Up there!” exclaimed Dale as he panted for air. They clambered up the steep hill that led to the second road that he had mentioned earlier.

It was a difficult climb filled with loose rocks and near-falls. The monsters below had trouble navigating it, and howled whenever they slid back down. However, luck was in favor of the living as no blue light flared out to ensnare them. Scott and Dale made it to the road, both of them panted heavily upon reaching the summit of the relatively small hill.

Dale coughed twice then pointed down the road. “See that fifth house down there, the one with the hedge?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s it.”

“Right.” said Scott.

They set out again moving as quickly as they could. The house was relatively close, and no other monsters popped up to bar their path. They reached the privacy hedge, and Dale trotted forward excited to see his family. However, he slowed to a confused walk shortly thereafter, and not due to his need for a rest.

“What is it?” asked Scott.

“No…” said Dale.

Scott caught up with the man and then looked toward the house. From out of the front door staggered a teenage boy, his face had been bitten and it looked like half of his neck was missing. Another Ghoul staggered jerkily toward them from the side of the house. This one was a woman who might have been in her thirties.

“Dale…” said Scott.

“No.” said the man. He fell to his knees.

“Come on man, we have to go.” said Scott.

“Go?” asked Dale quietly. He looked up at Scott then his eyes narrowed and red-rimmed. “Go?! Where the hell is there to go?”

The old man pushed him away then staggered back. He panted heavily and gripped his rifle in hand. “This is my family!”

“They’re dead! We need to leave.” said Scott.

“I’m not leaving them! You leave!” snapped the man. He made a threatening gesture with his rifle.

“Dale, come on man. Don’t do this.”

“Go to hell!” snapped Dale. He fired off a round into the air. “What’s left to go on for?”

The moment the rifle was fired dozens of unholy voices cried out from all around the area. If the monsters did not know that they were there before, they knew it now.

“Dammit, Dale!” snapped Scott. Whatever he owed the man had probably already been paid back, but the idea that he would lose it this quickly when he had seemed to have such a strong mentality only a few minutes before was ridiculous. Of course, if it had been his grandmother he might have understood the situation better.

“Go!” snarled Dale before pointing the rifle at Scott.

Scott took a step back then nodded. He wanted that rifle at the least, but he did not feel like being shot while trying to get it. “Fine, if you want to die here then that’s your business. At least give me the gun.”

“The hell I am! I have to protect my family!” snapped the man. His eyes had gone wild, crazed. Strangely, they also seemed to have begun to change colors. Scott was close enough to see that his sclera were now tinged with red. He was changing without having died! Scott was certain of it.

“Alright, best of luck.” said Scott before moving away from the man slowly.

Dale lowered his rifle then began to cry a little as his grandson came within range of him from behind. The man turned the rifle around and pointed the barrel into his mouth just as two things occurred. A red light flared outward to encompass the area, and Scott turned a corner around a house on the opposite side of the road. The gun went off and another round of loud howls and moans echoed through the area.

Scott finished rounding the corner then stepped back quickly. Over a dozen of the shark-toothed ghouls were trotting down a side path. Any lingering thoughts of going back after the gun were ignored. The place would be swarming with hungry bastards, and it might not even be that useful since it could not even kill the monsters.

He waited a moment till the monsters had moved on then continued on his way. He had to duck and dodge around or behind buildings frequently, but he somehow managed to slip past the monsters that were heading toward Dale’s sad end.

There was a serious problem that he had to attend to, now. Where did he go, and how did he get there? His house was not terribly far away now, but was it still a good idea to go there?

Honestly, he had no other ideas at the moment and at least the doors were reinforced. It was the former home of a self-styled drug-lord. Really, he had just been a paranoid meth dealer.

His house had a cross bar and was made out of concrete with a wood paneling and vinyl siding attached to match the aesthetics of the neighborhood. It would take a tank to knock it down. Scott had gotten a good deal on it, though it would not be paid off for another eleven years. He was not certain if that mattered anymore, however.

He reached a crossroad then took a deep breath. He recognized the area well. He was about two miles from home. There were no more convenient hills between here and his place. He would have to move carefully and time those movements so that he was not forced to rest in the open.

Scott felt weird for a moment and looked down. His right hand was shaking a little. He did his best to will it to stop, but he was only partially successful. “Shit. I need to get home before I lose it out here.”

He made it to the road that his house was on before the next issue cropped up. That issue came in the form of a four legged beast with the upper body of a man, and the fanged head of a wolf. It was like a centaur, but with the lower body of a wolf instead of a horse.

It raced out of a side street while chasing after his neighbor’s Chihuahua. “Gyahaha! Puppy! Puppy!” shouted the beast as it chased its would-be meal. Both monster and Chihuahua actually ran and neither seemed tired by the action.

Scott stared in wild horror as they crossed the road and kept going. The beast never even seemed to notice him. It was entirely fixated on its fleeing meal.

He abandoned the road altogether and slipped over to the alleyway between several houses. He was closed off, but as long as nothing saw him he would be fine. He needed to be certain that nothing saw him when he entered his house, especially the monster he had just seen. Shark-toothed people were bad enough, but there were clearly worse things in the world at the moment.

Scott made it home, surprisingly. His house was the last one on the road. It was small and blocky, it looked ordinary and a bit boring. It was the perfect place to hide from the world for a while.

Once inside, he immediately locked and barred his door. He lowered the steel shutters over the windows and locked them in place. The former owner had placed both steel bars over the windows on the outside, and steel shutters inside. It was the sort of security one might find in a bad neighborhood, except that it was a nice suburban area.

The first thing he did was check the house thoroughly for intruders. After seeing no sign of man or monster, he stripped down then took a shower. Thankfully the water was still running. He doubted that would be the case much longer. The power was still on as well, but he knew that would go out before the water did. After he showered and changed into clean clothes, he turned on his TV and checked for news.

Several stations were off the air, but there were others that were still broadcasting. The fact that a few stations were down was quite telling.

“Confirmed monster sightings have occurred all over the world. These creatures are known to be aggressive, highly dangerous, and predatory. They will attack anything that is not of their own kind, some will even attack other monsters.”

“Monsters?” asked Scott. Is that really what they were calling them? He turned the volume down and moved closer. He did not want to risk something outside hearing the TV.

The news caster continued to give wild reports of strange beasts roaming the land. Images and video of various attacks appeared on screen. Lizard men, flying eyeballs, hordes of shark-toothed people, and more were shown.

Several hours passed while Scott made the most of them. He had set about the task of cooking what he could. He had a freezer full of meat, but little else in the way of food. He had enough canned goods to last a day or two, and dried food like rice to last a week. If the power went out he would not be able to cook anything else quickly.

While his TV quietly played in the background he gorged on sausage and ate several raw eggs. He also boiled chicken, baked chicken, and fried chicken. He had a lot of chicken stored up in his freezer.

“If the power went out now, the freezer would probably keep everything edible till early tomorrow morning.” mumbled Scott. The meat had to be eaten before his other groceries or it would go to waste. He drank milk instead of water or soda. There was half a jug of milk left in his fridge, and it would not keep as well as the other two options.

While the chicken cooked, and after is sausage and eggs, he went about gathering up every conceivable item in the house that he could which might hold water. It might not be safe to drink it due to the monsters roaming about in the water supply, but he could probably boil it for safety. He quickly cleaned every sink in the house, and his bath tub, and then filled them all with water.

“Filter, filter…” muttered Scott. He thought about it for a moment then nodded. His ex-girlfriend was a coffee drinker. He was not much for it unless there was hot cocoa mixed in with it, but it did not matter. Some of her stuff was still here, and that included her coffee filters.

Scott went to the kitchen and changed out some of the cooking food. The fried stuff seemed to be done already, or done enough. He re-used the pans with the same cooking oil and started the process of frying fish. Most of the chicken was baking in the oven already. He had a bit of hamburger, a pack of pork chops, and a sack of tilapia fillets to finish cooking.

He put the fried chicken on the table atop several paper towels. Now was not the time for niceties, he could clean the table easier that a lot of different plates. He would already have many pots and pans to clean as it was.

As soon as the meat preparation was done, Scott went to his shower and started cleaning his dishes. He started with the pots as he would need them to boil the water. He had a separate shower from his bath tub, and it seemed like an appropriate placed to do the dishes since the sinks and tub were full of water.

In this manner, time passed quickly. He did not pay attention to the terror outside his door. He focused him mind on the tasks at hand to maintain sanity. Whatever hell might lie outside, as long as he remained busy he could manage to live a little longer.

A clean shirt and a full pack of paper filters were used up in the process of boiling and storing as much water as Scott could manage. It was the best he could do. He could only hope that the water was purified enough that he would not get sick drinking it, if it was contaminated.

He ate meat till he was full. Chicken, fish, and pork chops. He did not skimp. It could be his last meal, and it would not last long if the power did go out. He knew that the scent of cooked food would possibly draw monsters, but his house was like a tomb in some respects. Very little of the odor would escape, but the combined smells were slightly nauseating.

The long day now over, Scott rested on his couch and watched the few remaining channels that were on. He did not have cable or satellite television, so he was totally beholden to local stations.

Most of what he saw was more of the same. The world had changed without warning. Monsters roamed the land, and refused to die. People were eaten alive and many returned to life as a monstrosity. Some were devoured too completely for even that semblance of life.

Reports came in from all across the country, as the rest of the world did not respond as readily anymore. It was then, as he listened to the ever-dwindling number of channels on his television that Scott closed his eyes. Hot tears formed then slid down his cheeks. He did not sob, or show any other outward sign of the turmoil within. There was nothing left to do now. He had a fortified home and no amount of pushing furniture around to block exits would make it any better than it was before. All he could do not was wait. He sat in his house, alone at the end of the world, and let the horrors of the day pass through him.