ALONE
Alone, that was the truth of the matter, he was all alone. Dmitri looked to the sky expecting to see a glimmer of hope, maybe a god to which he could cling, and yet nothing but the empty void stared back at him. For a desolate rock hurtling through space, the sky sure did seem empty. The veil of a thousand fires was sown across the night sky, not even the stars could pierce the thick smoke that rolled across its canvas. Dmitri let his eyes sink back down to the ground he firmly sat on, the wet green grass tickling his fingers as he dragged them through it. Maybe he expected purring, maybe a sound of gratitude, but none of that was to be his, it was all gone, all destroyed, all mortal in stature. They thought they could win this war, but who could win a war against beings that came from the sky. Emerging in great balls of fire from the heavens, their arrival costing the lives of millions. How could one fight such a force. Leaning back Dmitri could feel the splinters of a tree that once stood proud digging into his flesh, but it was no matter, he was as good as dead.
A rustling came from the bushes to his left, dmitri quickly turned his head and grasped his rifle. Charging the bolt, letting a round fly into the oblivion of the dark of night. He took aim and stood slowly, his tattered uniform rustling. He stood there, motionless, his rifle at the ready, the barrel aimed true, and with each rustle of the bushes he would turn whipping himself around. It was behind him, to his left and right, and then it was all around him. It was only then that Dmitri felt the gentle breeze of the wind whispering in his ear, to never fear, it was here, it was there, it was everywhere. He let his rifle sag, his muscle aching, both dropping to the ground with a dull thud, the earth accepting him and his rifle in its gentle embrace.
The morning sun and its inhuman heat greated Dmitri’s eyes to a new day in a desolate wasteland. A place where only the shortest of plants had survived, bushes, grass, and saplings. Everything else had been flattened, as if a giant had come through and snapped each tree, laying them bare on the ground, leaving a massive field of destruction in his wake. Dmitri squinted searching the horizon, his brow furrowed and he felt tears wander from his heart to his eyes, there was nothing, absolutely nothing left. They had destroyed everything.
“Fuck you!” he screamed, his voice wandering across the barren wasteland, alone without a living soul to hear his anguish. Somewhere deep down Dmitri wished someone had heard him, human or not, the silence was crushing, a vice on his soul.
Dmitri grabbed his rifle and lazily slung it across his shoulder, a sharp pain radiated through his body, a knife embedding itself in his shoulder. Sliding the rifle off he saw fresh blood, he had ripped open the scab, and it was bleeding again. Kneeling down dmitri ripped off a piece of his pant leg and placed it over the wound, and as he wrapped it around his shoulder he counted one, two, three, and pulled tight. No longer was the pain like that of a knife, but a red hot blade plunged deep into the bone, reaching for his conscience with greedy hands willing to pull him under into a deep unearned slumber. Dmitri pushed back, and even as the world began to spin, he placed a hand firmly on the stump behind him and finished tying the knot. His head pulsating he forced himself back onto his feet, and stumbling picked up his rifle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glimmer, something metallic in the grass, as he reached for it, he was welcomed with a familiar cold metallic object, the round he had ejected yesterday. He placed the round between hs index finger and thumb, and inspected it. As he turned the round, he saw a small engraving on one side, and flipping it around he read out loud.
“Dmitri” he whispered, shying away from letting himself be heard, even by his own shadow. He knew full well what this round was, an old tradition in his unit, a tradition long past, nothing but superstition to comfort the cowardly. Each man would cut his battle brothers name into the casing of a round, and until that round was fired he would be immortal on the battlefield. So much for that superstition he thought to himself. However against all reason, he let passion dictate his will and instead of placing it back into the magazine, he let the round find its way safely into his pocket. As alone as he was, he wasn't ready to die… yet.
Dmitri took a look around, he had come from the south after the arrival of the enemy, heading north through what was formerly a proper forest, and now was nothing more than a field of thousands of logs, and dead animals. Their corpses now visible, strewn across the woods. Guts hung from what were once branches, bones protruded through the hide of deer and boar alike. Heads were mangled messes, with eyes missing or hanging from sockets that were contorted beyond recognition. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, save for Dmitri. He was in the city when the first blast took place, and he was hiding behind the same tree he was last night when the second blast came. Looking back south Dmitri could see a body, he felt his muscles stiffen with fear. He came here alone, no one from his unit survived, that body had no right to be here. Raising his rifle Dmitri approached the body, it was a man's body, a man in uniform. His back was mangled, a mess of ribs, spine, and flesh, the back of his legs ripped open, with his left leg missing a chunk of muscle as if a bear had bitten right through it. Dmitri poked the head with his rifle, the skull caving in, brain matter began to flow out.
“God damn it!” Dmitri exclaimed as he jumped back. The man was dead that was for sure. But for a man to make it out this far, with those injuries was certainly impossible. And for all the silence in the world, Dmitri felt a little less alone, and he couldn't tell if he should be more afraid of the nothingness that surrounded him, or the possibility of something lurking in the vast unknown.
He had to move, his original target was the city of Zagrabev, but that was probably destroyed as well, no harm in trying he thought to himself. Where else was he going to go, he wondered to himself. And so he slung his rifle over his uninjured shoulder and soldiered forward.
As the day passed and his march turned into a obstacle course, dodging rogue branches that threatened to impale him and tree trunks too tall to climb. His muscle tiring with each leap, each climb, each step. His vest turned from feathers into lead, and sweat rolled down his brow, to his cheek before leaping to the earth without even bidding him a farewell. The road was long and hard, and Dmitri knew it, but after several kilometers and a scramble up a small mountain, he finally saw Zagrabev, a pile of smouldering ruins down in the valley below. tightening his vest and bringing his binoculars to bear, he wiped the sweat from his brow and took a look at the desolation before him. Corpses lined the streets nearest the blast, the buildings utterly destroyed, a pile of ruble. Some bodies were missing arms, or heads, even legs. He remembered this sight, he knew all too well what might be waiting for him down there. Dmitri took his water canteen out, unscrewing the cap and tilting it back to let the last few drops of water, rush down his throat, a welcome rain in a desert, each drop adding life to a cracked earth. Putting the canteen away, Dmitri approached the city crouching, the pain in his legs silenced by his roaring heartbeat. Dmitri approached a small destroyed building, most likely an old house, still made of bricks. A shame he thought to himself, that such a nice building would befall such a fate, but for the monsters from the sky there was no beauty, only shells where their food would hide. And the less between them and their prey the better. As he slid behind what was left of the wall, he saw the body of a young woman, missing all her limbs and her head, what was left was nearly unrecognizable, with organs hanging out from each and every inch of what remained of her corpse. Her back was oddly sunken, and muscle protruding from it, her ribs were collapsed and folded in. The enemy would not spare a single morsel of useful tissue.
Dmitri dragged himself to the edge of the building, the one nearest the street and stilled his breath before leaning one eye out, to take a gander at what lay beyond the cold brick walls. What his one eye saw, chilled his blood and froze him in place, he could feel his back stiffen and the scent of rotting flesh fill his nostrils. The street was riddled with bodies, destroyed tanks covered in blood and guts, their former camouflage almost indistinguishable from the new paint design. And in the center of the street a hulking mass, one of mangled limbs. Its form was humanoid except for the missing head, and it leaned on one of the BMP’s, the suspension crushed under its weight. Its weapon, that looked eerily like a box like rifle, leaned against the BMP’s crushing the armored pate beneath. Dmitri knew this beast all to well, and he knew all too well that, that is where his friends, and loved ones found the end of their journey. A contorted mass, a creature made from limbs and flesh of its victims. Dmitri slowly let himself slide back into hiding, his canteen letting out an echo as it bounced off the brick wall. Looking down at it Dmitri could feel the dryness in his mouth, and the sun beating down on him. He needed water and he knew where to get it, but the alien beast was between him and that goal. Dmitri looked to the mangled flesh, that was one a young girl, and he could see her running for her life, and being ripped apart and he knew that if he did nothing that he would soon join her, another member of the morbid decore. Dmitri leaned towards the edge of the wall, and placed his hands on it, small fragments of brick and stone digging into his flesh. Dmitri placed one foot forward, and then one hand, crawling like an animal, a lizard avoiding the wrath of the eagles that flew above.
Sneaking his way across the street he could feel his muscles burning, he began to shake, his mind fighting his body for control of each movement. He wasn't willing to give up not now, not in the middle of the street. He knew there was a back alley behind the next building, one relatively undamaged by the blast and invasion, it was his golden road, his path to salvation. Another foot, another step, and a crack. Dmitri’s eyes darted to his feet, he had stepped on a broken pane of glass, its cry echoing from wall to wall, clawing at the beast to awake, a fly had stepped in its web. Scrambling forward Dmitri found himself collapsing behind cover, his body exhausted his mind grasped by fear and thrown into certain oblivion. He could hear the alien turning, standing, the suspension of the BMP creaking in relief. a moment of silence, it was listening, Dmitri froze, he did not breathe, he did not blink, his mind blank as he let instincts kick in. The silence was shattered by a deep resounding footstep, its vibrations carrying through the earth, shaking Dmitri’s bones, and his very spirit. He was quick to slowly crawl towards the other edge of the building, approaching the alleyway, his golden road, he could see its glow, feel its perfection as his face slid through the grass, and his breath took up dirt and soot.
The steps suddenly turned to a rumble, and Dmitri ripped himself from the earth throwing himself around the corner, a silent giant he saw erupting into the open from the corner of his eye. Its limbs thousands of contorted legs and arms, thousands of muscles from thousands of people flexing and relaxing, blood still dripping from them, moving the massive fraim as bones snapped and muscles tore. Dmitri plummeted behind the remnants of the wall, he could tell its thousand eyes were looking all about, squishing through the contorted frame to gaze in all directions. Dmitri was quick to crawl, without a sound, down the alleyway, he finally saw a door intact, and decided to go inside. As he reached for the doorknob he felt the earth rumble, his sweaty hands grasped the doorknob and twisted violently, revealing a path into complete darkness. He could see the beast weapon rapidly advancing past the edge of the rubble, and so he threw himself inside, swinging past the door and closing it behind him. The darkness surrounding him, stealing his breath from within as the building began to shake. He could hear the cracking, the sound of flesh being ripped apart, the wet noise like that of boots sinking deep into mud. The beast came, Dmitri could feel his lungs scratching, reaching out for air, his body filling with acid, and then the beast left; its thundering footsteps vanishing into the distance. Dmitri took a shaky breath in, and exhaled, he let himself sit down burying his face in his hands trying muffle the sound of sweat and tears raining onto the wooden boards beneath. Each drop crying out in anguish as it struck the boards, never to be seen again. He sat there, alone, his rifle at his side. A lone companion in a dark place, during a dark time. Leaning against him, comforting his spirit with its cold metallic flesh. Dmitri’s eyes fluttered, beneath his hands hiding in an extra layer of darkness, a veil from oblivion itself. And yet he could not help but let his hands fall away, and the light rays that snuck through the broken boards illuminated his soul. He sat there staring into them, hoping, praying, for the rain that would never come. For the heavens were scorched, and with it his hope.
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Pushing himself to his feet Dmitri could feel the floorboards bending, and the nails struggling to hold his weight. He was too heavy, he knew that much, but he could not leave his equipment behind. And so, stepping lightly, he moved forward, his rifle at the ready. As he moved forward Dmitri realized that he was at the back entrance of what appeared to be a restaurant. An old door, with a broken glass window stood proudly in front of him, what little light was on the other side desperately clawing its way in through the cracks. Approaching the door Dmitri raised his hand, and touching it he felt the heavy dust that had settled over it, sticking to his hand. Dmitri counted, gathering his wits and gathering his courage. One, two, three! Dmitri pushed the door gently, and the door swung open silently, on freshly oiled hinges, and he entered an old restaurant. Or rather what was left of it. The tables had been abandoned in a rush, bottles and cups lay shattered on the floor. Clothes and coats were forgotten, childrens toys lay abandoned as did their strollers. The bar was full of half finished drinks and food still waiting to be taken by the waiter. As Dmitri walked deeper into the dining hall, the little light that made its way through the cracks of the blinds, and the thick dust that filled the air, illuminated what was once the entrance. The door was barricaded, boarded up, and patched up multiple times. It was clear something had tried to make its way inside, or someone. And it was clear that someone had made it back in time to block the door. Suddenly Dmitri heard the rattling of plates, he turned on his heel and aimed his rifle, it had come from the kitchen. Then there was the shattering of a glass, Dmitri approached the kitchen slowly. Surely no one could have survived the initial assault, nobody did. He knew what it looked like he had seen it with his own eyes. The way the capsules erupted and thousands of small dog sized worm-like creatures rained from the sky, burrowing into the skin of their victims. He remembered for a moment his good friend, Mikhiel, and as they were running into cover he tripped and a worm landed on him, how quickly it bit into his neck, plunging deep into his flesh just behind the clavicle. It seemed painless almost, the suffering was momentary, and only lasted as long as the worm was outside the body. Once it was inside it was only a matter of seconds. Dmitri could hear their screams, and he remembered when he saw the first corpse rise, he remembers how he shot it, only to watch it rush over to another dead body and drink the blood of the fallen. The worm protruding from just under the jaw of the now living corpse.
Dmitri suddenly felt the floor shake, and then the building. The beast had returned and it was circling the building. Dmitri stilled his breath, and quenched his nerves, hardening them into steel. There was no breaking now, not after he had made it this far. It was then that he heard more glass shattering in the kitchen, he turned his head, and slowly raised his rifle to meet the doorway. The ground suddenly stopped shaking, Dmitri could feel his heart pounding, his feet seemed welded to the floor, even if he wanted to there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And so he kept his eyes fixated on the doorway, peering through the thick dust, hoping that somehow the few rays of light that had clawed their way inside would decide to illuminate the doorway and all that was hidden behind it. He could hear the rippling of thousands of exposed muscled, snapping of bones taken from the elderly, and the sound of a thousand towels being wringed at once, moisture dripping down to the ground, turning the dirt into a mixture of blood and mud. Dmitri could swear he could hear it sniffing, but he knew they had no noses, and yet he could swear they did. maybe they smelled fear, or maybe they smelled hope. Either way he had none of those things left in him anymore. He was an apparition, invisible to them so long as they did not lay eyes on him. Dmitri waited, and then he felt the floor shake, and the footsteps echoed off of buildings far away.
Another sound came from the kitchen, floorboards were creaking. Dmitri was quick to move forward, smoothly, like he was trained. His rifle at the ready, he carefully clambered over the counter, and slid to the floor. Silent and swift, like a mouse on the hunt for scraps from a dangerous master. He let himself come close to the door, before grabbing a flashlight from his pouch. Dmitri took a step forward, and then realized that making noise wasn't an option. And so he slung his rifle down to his side, and pulled from his belt his combat knife. Whatever awaited on the other side, it surely wasn't too big for a knife to handle. Dmitri placed his shoulder on the door, he would only have one chance, the kitchen had become silent. Shoving the door hard he erupted into the room his arm cocked ready to strike, his eyes following the light checking corners and illuminating the space he was in. He scanned the countertops where food had been prepared, and the darkest corners of the room. It was like any restaurant kitchen he had seen on television, modern, sleek, with tables for the chefs made of polished stainless steel. Pots and pans lay thrown about haphazardly. The tables were arranged in three rows, with the center row full of gas stoves. Dmitri knew those all too well, old but reliable. He remembered his family home, how his babushka had taught him to make his first chicken soup. But his childhood pride was short lived as he heard something rustling in the dark corner of the room. Dmitri quickly raised his light and his knife, and approached the third row, with each step the rustling seemed to get quieter, it knew he was coming. Dmitri stopped short of the third row, whatever it was he needed the drop on it. And so he cocked his arm back, ready to plunge his knife into any demons that may be waiting for him, he took a deep breath, before leaping sideways and taking confident strides forward. Before his adrenaline could take hold of him, his light fell on the noble sight of what little life was left in this world. A rat, chewing on his newest meal, the rotting body of the chef, with a clever in his head. His blood spilled onto the floor, and next to him the body of a female assistant, on whose ear the rat was pridefully nibbling on. Their eyes were still open, they had died suddenly, and they were a sickly pale. Their skin was loose, and blood clots had formed in their hands and legs causing them to bloat to unnatural sizes. The chefs fat stomach had bloated seemingly to its breaking point, and Dmitri chuckled to himself.
“A little longer and I’d Find you had flown away.” He chimed to himself, his voice slithering through the air and across the floor, vanishing in the darkness beneath the tables. He thought whether to sit down, the room was clearly well insulated and sound would be hard to hear from here. Maybe there was running water as well. Dmitri’s stomach grumbled, but more importantly was there food he wondered.
Dmitri holstered his knife and went about scavenging the tables, looking for any food worth eating, food that hadn't been spoiled, or that hadn't been unpacked. he searched, moving pots and pans carefully as to not make a single sound. The rat sure thought he was quiet enough as he went about his task, nibbling away at his eternal dinner. Dmitri found plate after plate of finished meals, putting his nose to the task he smelled the meat, sour, rotten time and time again. He began to lose hope. His throat was sore, his body was aching with exhaustion, he needed food, he needed water and he needed it soon. He wondered if there was maybe some left over pressure in one of the fossetts. Dmitri slowly bent under each faucet, and carefully turned the handle, each time a few drops would grace his lips. And then he found what he was looking for, he bent his head under, and as he twisted he could hear the pipes groan. This was it. Dmitri quickly took his canteen out and placed it under and opened the foset. Water surged forth filling his canteen and overflowing it, without a second thought he plunged his head under and drank, filling himself with the fountain of life, until it was depleted, gone, like everything else, not enough to bring him back from the dead, but enough to keep him on the precipice of life. He looked at his canteen with envy, such a small vessel and yet it carried so much importance. It never thirsted, it never wept, it felt no fear. And yet it was so important, so immortal compared to him. Drinking what water he managed to gather and putting it away he saw a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. Looking down Dmitri realized that he was standing next to the bodies, his leg brushing up against the chefs side. He could feel the cold of the flesh, and the bending of rotting bones. As Dmitri picked up his light he saw another glimmer, and realized it was coming from the chefs belt. Crouching down he saw something metallic, something in the chefs pocket, just under his hand. It seemed the man died clutching it, hiding it. Dmitri scanned the bodies, it seemed that the woman was reaching for that pocket, and died trying to get whatever was in there, there weren't killed by the worms, no, they were killed by other men. The rats were simply here to clean up the mess.
Dmitri gently grabbed the chefs hand and moved it, he heard a crack and saw the chefs head turning, his edematous face and blank eyes peering at him from beyond the grave. A streak of blood running from his eyes as if he had cried bloody tears of joy at the end of it all, as if all life was a comedy waiting for a tragic end. Dmitri stared into those empty pits watching for any movement, his body turning as cold as the corpse itself until he couldn't tell which was which. Gently placing his hand into the pocket Dmitri felt something even colder, something metallic and removing it and lifting it to break his hypnotic gaze were a set of keys. And one key in particular looked different, an old lock key, taken straight from a cartoon. Dmitri remembered stories of people building doomsday bunkers, he even saw the advertisements in television before the apocalypse. He remembered these keys, as far fetched as they were back then, a small candle of hope was lit in his heart, and yet the flame seemed dimmed by the endless questions e had. It was then that he realized that all restaurants had cellars and fridges that were under lock and key, if there was going to be food and water, and a well insulated room, it was going to be there. Dmitri exploded to his feet, swinging his flashlight around wildly. There had to be another door, another door with a lock and a key to match. One with a large handle, one that had something special about it. He was quick to walk about the room, searching, his eyes prying through the ever present dust. Dmitri tried each door he came to, placing the key into the lock, twisting until silence overcame his struggle, and then slowly but surely opening each door. He found the utensils, the plates and dishes, the door to the bathroom, a welcome sight at that and one that he did not hesitate to make use of, and the door to the janitors office. A dark cold place, and a flight of stairs leading to nowhere. Dmitri had lost all hope when his light came across a door, with bloody handprints on it, and a single body, it looked like that of a waiter why lay crumpled under it. The man had a knife stuck in his neck and another in his back, and a single key lay on the ground next to him. Whatever it was behind that door, everyone wanted a piece of it, and if they wanted a piece of it, Dmitri wanted a piece of it as well. Dmitri approached the door and placed his hand on it, knocking on it gently, with a dull resounding thud. This had to be the fridge. Dmitri thought to himself, and so he tried the last key he hadn’t tried yet.
The key slid into the lock smoothly, and turned with little resistance, the sound of gears whirring, and the sensation of a cold delicate breeze escaping past his ankles. Dmitri could feel this was it. He took the key out and pushed, the door was heavy, clearly made of thick sheet metal. As he opened the door slowly, he heard a ticking sound, silent but ever present. Dmitri stopped, his hands pressed firmly against the door. Did i trip an alarm, Dmitri could feel an internal panic, his veins swelled with blood, his heart began to race. Dmitri waited, the ticking got louder, the intervals longer. He close his eyes, and then a blinding light flooded the room. Breaking through the thick dust, and a deep, heavily accented voice rung out from the darkness.
“Who are you?” Dmitri stumbled backwards falling over the body of the waiter, scrambling on the floor he grabbed for his knife pulling it from its sheath only to feel a boot come hammering down, pinning his arm to the floor. Dmitri struggled for his pistol, another voice, this one higher pitched pierced the darkness. “He’s armed! Grab him!” A set of limbs came raining down upon him, pinning him to the ground. Dmitri struggled, his groans gaining him nothing but shame. The light came closer to him, and stopped at his feet, a tall, robust figure hidden behind an illuminating force. “I will ask one last time, who are you?” the man’s voice descended down on Dmitri with a force of a thousand pounds, pressing down on his chest, strangling his voice.
“Dmitri!” Dmitri whispered, his voice barely escaping his lips.
“Who!?” The voice demanded, the light coming closer to Dmitri’s face.
“Dmitri Zirkhov!” He exclaimed and the light retreated, replaced by a firm grip around his vest ripping Dmitri to his feet. Dmitri was afraid this was the end and so he let his head tilt backwards and he looked to the heavens, past the darkness of the room, through the ceiling of his eternal grave. And then, as if against his will, he felt a warm embrace, and the voice that had crushed his voice earlier came bounding out again.
“We thought the 200th battalion were all dead! Thank god you are alive!” The voice grabbed Dmitri’s spirit, and ripped it from the clutches of oblivion dragging it from the heavens back to its earthly prison. Dmitri could feel relief forcing its way through his eyes, and rolling off into the man's shoulder as tears, Dmitri struggled and choking back sobs he managed to ask.
“Who are you?” His voice falling on the vast emptiness around him, before the voice responded.
“Don’t worry, you are not alone. Welcome to the resistance!” The man's voice almost seemed clear like water from a stream, and he hugged him closer. He had found them, other men, other spirits that still walked this earth. Hidden in the most forgotten place in this world, in the back of a kitchen full of rotting corpses, where desperation led men to kill each other. And he found life among them, he found hope. Dmitri could feel his legs shaking, and buckling under their own weight. He felt the man quickly grab him under his arms, his voice slowly fading into the distance as Dmitri gave himself away to his fate. “Grab him, help me, he needs help! Shit he’s in a bad way, quick we need to take him to the medic, downstairs quick, quick!” Dmitri felt as many hands covered him, grabbing his feet, his arms, and hoisting him up, He could feel his canteen bouncing off the steps as they descended into the underground, the light becoming ever brighter. All his fear was melting away, he was safe, he had made it, the horrors of the world became distant, and he seemed to float. He was no longer alone.
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Voices, he could hear them, grumbling, the sound of sterile tools working frantically. Scissors cutting, Dmitri felt a sharp pain, but was unable to care, he was in bliss surrounded by light, by voices which even though distant seemed closer than he could ever have imagined. They were all so clear, and like the voices he could feel dozens of hands patting him, working on his body. Am I dying, he wondered, it was then that he felt his veins fill with a blistering cold and the light seemed to fade. His body began to shake, shivering uncontrollably. A voice in the distance yelling, his voice frantic and yet muffled as if behind a glass wall. Dmitri felt a heavy weight press against his chest, it would have been comforting had it not felt like he was suffocating. He saw the light fading, and panic raked his mind clawing at his spirit, bending his will into submission until all thought and memory faded. He remained in the darkness, curled up within himself, detached from his senses and the world around him. Then, he heard an electronic beeping sound. The sound seemed distant, and its arrival although steady, was few and far between. However it seemed to break the darkness little by little, and the more light he could see through the cracks of his imagination, the steadier and more pronounced the sound became, until suddenly his eyes fluttered open.
Dmitri squinted, his eyes burning from the light. It was nothing like the light he had experienced before. This light wass raw, aggressive, and cold, it burned his eyes and forced him to hide himself from it. The world had become a blur, it was as if he had forgotten how to see, his vision like that of a newborn, innocent and inexperienced to the world before him. Dmitri wondered if, at this pace, he would have to learn to crawl again. He lay still, opening his eyes every so often trying to teach himself to focus again, and he could begin to make out the general shapes of things as time went on. The cupboard next to him, it looked metallic, as if taken from an old office. A metal stand with a strange beeping device next to him, and a set of cables running under his uniform, it must have been the ECG. He was so fixated on his eyes that he realized he had become accustomed to the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat monitor. As silent as everything was, his zen was broken when the door to the room creaked open, its rusted hinges squealing. And in walked a woman, dressed in a strange uniform. Her fatigues were standard apart from the coat she was wearing which was white with short sleeves, and on it a large red cross stared back at him. The woman approached him, and pressed firmly on his stomach, to which Dmitri groaned. The woman stopped, and stood still, looking back at Dmitri. She pressed again, a groan barely escaping his lips. Leaning towards his face until Dmitri could feel her sweet scented breath, she asked him firmly, commandingly.
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“What is your name soldier?” As commanding and stern as her voice was, it came off like rose petals brushing against his face. A sound and plea so alluring the he could not help but answer.
“Dmitri Zirkhov!” His voice escaped his chest eagerly and pressed past his lips so clearly that even he was taken aback, hearing his voice echoed through the small room time and time again berating his ears.
“Officer! He is awake!” The woman turned, and yelled through the door. Soon after two men and the robust figure entered the room. They were all wearing military fatigues much like his own. They grabbed him and hoisted him into a seated position, bracing him until he could sit on his own and keep his head up.
“Hello Dmitri!” the man exclaimed, his voice was just as gruff as when he had first heard it. However now the face behind the voice revealed itself, no longer concealed by the veil of darkness. He was an old man, his intonation betrayed it, but his physique was that of a young sprite man.
“Hello officer” Dmitri replied, lifting his hand in a vain attempt at a salute.
“No need for formalities here Dmitri. Zbyszek, Konrad unplug him from the IV and the ECG.” The men were quick to oblige and ripped the ECG leads from Dmitris skin, taking several hairs with it and leaving Dmitri with a gentle burn where they were connected. The IV proved a little trickier and the men were reluctant to touch it, eventually the woman intervened, sliding it out smoothly and painlessly before applying a small bandage to his arm and tying it down firmly. “Can you stand Dmitri? Or would you rather we discuss here?” The question seemed fairly cut and dry, and as friendly as his voice was it washed over Dmitri with a certain weight to it. He knew this was not a friendly request and so he attempted to stand, his legs shaking, before his vision began to spin sending dmitry spiraling down towards the ground. The men were quick to recover him and place him back on the bed. “So sitting it is, men leave us, and doctor you stay just in case he starts to feel worse for ware.”
“Yes sir.” The woman replied. So she was a doctor Dmitri wondered. How she had come to such a position was unknown but she seemed to know what she was doing, and there was never enough of a womans touch he chimed to himself.
“So, Dmitri, how did you find us?” The man demanded as he leaned against the far wall. It’s cold cracked cement surface the color of his eyes and equally emotionless.
“I came here by accident sir” Dmitri leaned back into the bed, his muscles aching.
“Ah, so then how many survived from your unit?” The officer stood and grabbed a small cup from the cupboard next the the bed, pacing back and forth. His presence dwarfing the space he was in.
“None sir, only I made it.” Dmitri leaned forward and planted his elbows against his knees, beads of sweat dripping from his brow, his breath became heavy, and each breath seemed to spill from his lips as if he was breathing water rather than air.
“Are you positive Dmitri?” The officer walked over and kneeled next to Dmitri, offering him a cup of water. Dmitri looked up at the man, and starring him straight in his eyes, into those bottomless gray orbs he responded.
“Positive….” The men held each other's gaze for a few moments before the officer stood and planted his hand firmly against the door, punching it gently with the other. Suddenly he turned and staring back at Dmitri, let forth a bit of humanity.
“Drink Dmitri, and get up.” He waved for Dmitri to get up, and when the doctor approached him he simply raised his hand and she stood still. As if he had cast a spell on her, freezing her in time. She stood passively as Dmitri drank until the last drop. He planted his arms on his knees, and slowly but steadily forced himself into standing.
“Remarkable” The doctor exclaimed. Wide eyed she stood observing the man who was once dead rise to his feet, and stand proudly before his commanding officer.
“Of all things for man to struggle for, following orders is something a good man will never fall short of.” The officer chimed, crossing his arms and letting a shallow smile creep its way unto his face.
“Dmitri Zirkhov, at your service sir!” Dmitri exclaimed, saluting the officer, confident as ever.
“There we go, now follow me Dmitri. Doctor give him something to wipe off with” The officer swung the metal door open, and stepped through to the other side. Dmitri was quick to follow stopping only to accept a small towel from the doctor. As he received the towel he could not help ut feel the softness of her hands, and let his eyes wander to hers. Her brown eyes pierced him with concern, and her gentle features were that of a young lady, not a military doctor. Dmitri’s infatuation was broken by the officer barking commands, his voice already distant echoing off the walls. Dmitri turned and entered the long hallway that the officer was waiting in.
The hallway was long, dark, and much like the room made of cement that was decorated with sporadic cracks, cobwebs and lights. Each fighting for dominance of the aesthetic landscape that was the infirmary tunell. They passed what seemed like endless rooms, each with the same metal door, with a small hatch for observation, and each room was equally empty to the last. If he had to pick, Dmitri decided that he would pick based on the aesthetic cracks in the wall, some he could imagine looking like horses, or lions, some like clouds. It seemed almost as if chaos itself had its own internal grand design that it liked to show off every so often, or maybe it was simply coincidence.
They eventually came up on a door, and the officer was prompt to push it open. They entered a vast room, with a domed ceiling and plenty of lights. The room was bustling with life, hundreds of people pushed passed each other, weaving in between tables, each with its own map and set of officers, discussion and plotting their next move. Dmitri was almost in tears, he had been so alone, so forgotten, and now he was surrounded by life, human life. The faces were all so familiar, some looked like his father, some like his grandfather. The wrinkles and even the smell of cigarettes in the room filled him with joy. Dmitri followed the officer to a table at the far end of the room. The officer walked up to the table and unsure whether or not to follow him Dmitri stopped, and let his eyes do the listening.
The table was surrounded by men in a similar age to the officer he was following. Dmitri didn't know why he was following him except that without him Dmitri felt lost, alone, and cold. It was then that he realized that he hadn't heard from the doctor and turned around looking for her. His eyes darting around the room, and his heart swelled each moment he saw a woman's face, and sunk each time it was not hers. Dmitri couldn't help but cherish the beauty he was allowed to witness, and the concern that he saw in those eyes for him.
“Private Dmitri! Please come.” the officers voice washed over him, stripping him of any tears that were making their way up from his heart, causing them to plummet down into his gut. Dmitri turned as saw the other officers staring at him expectantly, one even wiggled his mustache as he raised his eyebrows.
Dmitri approached the table cautiously, he was in dangerous territory and it wasn't often that the officers would allow someone from the lower ranks to speak at such a meeting, much less be present. Dmitri’s officer turned to the others, scanning their anticipation, and when he had felt that their anxiety had peaked he raised his hands and slapped them against the table and began to speak.
“Officers, generals. We are here today in a bunker deep under Zagrabev because the unthinkable and impossible has happened. We have come under attack from an alien source, a source that we unfortunately know plenty about.” The officer paused brushing aside several pieces from the war map, grumbling erupted among the generals and officers. “The enemy landed in Priviat, a major coastal city, where they deployed a weapon of mass destruction that you are now all but too familiar with. We estimate the loss of life in each place of landing at 80 or more percent.” With this remark the officer pushed a piece to the side and planted a new piece, one that looked like a man with some sort of metal attached to his skin. He placed it in the coastal cities where the enemy had first landed. “We deployed our special units to these areas, experimental troops called SEBA’s, men augmented with robotics and modified biologically. However as our communication posts have been destroyed we have heard nothing from them, and do not know whether they are alive or dead or have succeeded in their mission of stopping the enemy.” The officer paused again and pointed to the city of Drvitesk, the one where Dmitri was stationed before placing all the pieces there on their side, one by one, just like his friends from his battalion, each laid to rest. “Drvitesk has fallen, so has Zagrabev, the town above us is a wasteland void of life. The battalions stationed to fight, all but eradicated. Except for one man who escaped.” The officers and generals looked expectantly towards Dmitri, their eyes piercing his very being, analyzing his capacities, his character, and it seemed were passing final judgment on the sins of his past. “Dmitri here is the last known surviving member of the 200th battalion. He made it from the surface to us, escaping the enemy on the surface. He is also our last operational soldier left within this installation and as such we are entirely dependant on him to carry out any mission we set forth…” Dmitri’s blood ran cold, why was he the only operational man left, there were others! Those who had opened the door, the nurse, there were plenty of young fighting age officers in this room, at this very table. Dmitri’s eyes darted from face to face, searching for a face without wrinkles, and eyes filled with youth and vigor. He found several, one officer, even a general, before the officer could continue Dmitri interrupted, leaning firmly into the table.
“What do you mean last operational soldier? Aren’t there others here that can execute missions, what of the two men you had open the door and help me to my feet?” Dmitri’s demands failed to crack the iron stare of the officers before him, their grey placid eyes failed to show any stirring of emotion. He turned his head slowly back to the crowd and continued to address them, leaving Dmitri in a confused world where his thoughts battled with his reason, clashing, leaving him with more questions than he started with, and a sense of dread permeating between it all.
“As I was saying, Dmitri is the only one capable of executing any mission. So we must pick and choose them wisely for if he dies, any capacity we have to function on the surface will be lost. The surface is too contaminated for anyone without the proper preparation to walk, and to avoid falling prey to the enemy. And eachman, woman and child dead means more resources for the enemy to use in their conquest.” The crowd began to stir and whispering erupted, each voice a hiss, a judgement, a sentence, each mission more impossible than the last. Finally when the whispering had calmed down Dmitri’s officer was the first to speak. “restoring water flow it is then!” He exclaimed to Dmitri’s astonishment. He hadn’t seen him speak with any of the other officers and it was impossible that he had talked to any of the other men at the table, there was no vote, no consensus had been reached. Dmitri’s heart sank, he had been sentenced to certain death. He knew where the controls were, he had been heading there before his rescue. He knew what stood between him and his mission, but why bother when they had all the water they needed here?
The officer stood and the men at the table began to disperse, Dmitri let his mind wander and noted that all the men had gray eyes. Eyes as dead and lifeless as the officer that brought him in. He looked around and noticed that his officer had started off towards the door they had entered in. Jogging back towards him Dmitri noticed his walk, it was stiff, rigid, as if he was a puppet made of wood, controlled by an invisible puppet master, orchestrating a grand illusion. The officer stopped at the door and turned waiting for Dimitri, who was quick to catch up. He grabbed the door handle and unlocked it, but before he opened it he looked Dmitri in the eye. His lifeless bottomless pits snuffing out the small flicker of hope that Dmitri still had in his heart. Dmitri grabbed the door handle and prepared to exit, the room was oddly silent, and as he turned his head he saw how empty it was. The men who had been there not but a few seconds ago, gone, their tables empty. Dmitri turned to the officer who let a smile stretch his lips wide, cracking and ripping his lips as if they were made of dry leather.
“Of all things for man to struggle for, following orders is something a good man will never fall short of.” Dmitri felt a sense of deja vu, hadn’t the officer said this but hours before, moments in fact? The officers face began to turn gray and pale, edematous hemorrhages filling his lips, his eyes becoming more faded and gray by the moment. Dmitri’s heart raced, his mind rushing to put together the pieces, was he not safe, what was this place? Was he in hell!?
“Do not fear the dark Dmitri, god has heard your prayers.” It was a woman's voice, Dmitri turned to witness the source of such a majestic voice. She seemed to radiate a beautiful bright light, and yet it did not burn his eyes. She was just as beautiful and perfect as he had remembered her, and her eyes were still a dark, beautiful, tranquil brown. “Time to wake up Dmitri” Her voice became distant, the lights of the room began to fade and the walls began to shake and crumble. Dmitri turned around and saw the officer crumpled up next to the door, a bloated corpse, and a rat nibbling on his ear. The door was cracked open. Dmitri turned back to say goodbye but the woman was gone, and a faint light shone through the cracks of the door. Dmitri pushed it open, and rushed through, he felt himself falling, the light fading into the distance. Until darkness surrounded him, arms rising from the deep, dragging him into another oblivion.
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He was aching, it was dark, and it was cold. He felt something moving next to him, and the sound of tiny lips smacking in the distance. A faint light penetrating the thick dust that was omnipresent. Dmitri lifted his head gently, his body was stiff, he coughed up some dust which spiraled into the air. Its thick twirling tendrils wrapping around the rays of light, suffocating them, before wrapping around his spirit, collapsing it in a pit of despair. Dmitri let his eyes focus on what little light was left, the door that he had been saved through, a small LED light lit up a small freezer full of thawing food, water dripping from the shelves. Turning his head he could see the rat had had its fill of the ear it had been nibbling on and had set itself on the cheek of its prey, its victim slowly being transformed into a heap of bones, one bite at a time. Dmitri looked at the woman and the chef, their corpses laying in harmony, their eyes were just as gray as the officers and just as bottomless, staring into an infinity beyond comprehension. Dmitri let his head fall back to the cold floor with a dull thud, tears rushed from his heart in an unstoppable torrent. They washed his face of the dust that had covered it, turning him into another fixture of its morbid artwork. It couldn’t be true, he said to himself, they must have been real, he felt it, that woman she was too beautiful to be imaginary!
Dmitri lay there, sobbing, the rat the only witness to his tragedy, a witness that did not care nor understand, a witness that was inconsequential to his plight. Dmitri felt his heart swell, reaching past the cage that held it in place. Searching for a way out, before settling back into place and letting forth grand sobs. He let it cry deep within his empty shell, clutching it close and letting the tears flow. Holding his heart, clutching it to his nonexistent bosom, Dmitri sat up. His bones cracking, his mind shaken by a brush with annihilation itself. He buried his face in his hands, the tears of his heart pressing past his fingers, washing them of the living smoke that filled the room. He could not sit forever, and soon he was on his feet his rifle in hand and his flashlight firmly in his hand. The cold plastic blossoming to his embrace, purring with light. There was only one way out, back out the door he came in. As he approached the door Dmitri looked back to his only witness, who seemed to turn towards him, ceasing his incessant gnawing as he scraped flesh from bone, crafting his morbid sculpture in worship to his endless gluttony. His eyes ravenous, empty, eyes rejecting the light that came his way turning his them into small mirrors. But he wasn’t evil, the little thing. His leather like tail, his moist fur, his tiny claws and his wretched snow white teeth, all with on purpose. To consume, reproduce, and be on his rat like way. He was doing as he was made to do, his reason his senses carrying him forth on a leash to his next victim, to his pray, his nest not too far away. He was a creature, a product of his unchanging nature, a bulwark of stone and biology crafted over a million years. A product of his environment which changed year by year, season by season, and it was he who would inherit the earth, his kind, and all those that grew shorter than the shrubbery that gave them shelter, would inherit what man had lost. How could he be evil, when he acted in such a way that was appropriate to his uncorrupted nature. Dmitri felt a bridge of understanding form in the darkness, carrying their spirits together the shake hands, and so they parted ways.
Returning back into the dining room of the restaurant was like returning back into a cemetary. It was still as dark as it had been the last time he was here, the only difference was that the ground was still and that he had a defined goal in mind. Dmitri looked to the boards on the wall, a yellow light bursting through them, clawing through the dust that was omnipresent.
“Night time” Dmitri whispered to himself, raising his rifle surprised to hear himself speaking.
He approached the boarded windows and let his eyes peer through the cracks, letting the sunlight blind him. Dmitri turned his head before forcing himself to concentrate and squinting let himself bear witness to the sunset, an apocalyptic masterpiece. The horizon was filled with smoke, forming clouds that were stained red with the blood of the billions of victims. Their screams, their terror embodied by the canvas that their annihilation and the cosmos painted. A canvas that Dmitri secretly dubbed “greed”. The sun was setting and its light was fading from the world, replaced by a full moon illuminating the ruin beneath. A light so that even those in the heavens could ruminate in the plight of man, as they bathed in immortality. Celestial bodies, and beings, with a twinkle of glee in their eyes as mankind burned. Dmitri could remember the days when man's enemies seemed to hide behind thick sheets of glass, and the deep, hidden rooms of their towers. Made of steel, forged through suffering, and grown with the use of the blood and tears of the innocent. And now, after they had brought mans so called cure to mortality to earth, it all burned, nobody would have their cure. Nobody would thrive, there would be no oppression, all were equal now, now that there was nothing left, and nobody left to fight over it.
Dmitri let his eyes relax, and he saw an outline down the street,it was the water distribution complex. The beast was nowhere to be seen, its massive frame probably still sleeping on the BMP a few streets down. It was made of men, Dmitri concluded, and so its eyesight could only be as good as that of men. He set to work, slowly removing board by board, placing them down stacking them gently on the ground. He worked swiftly, he worked silently, for he knew the night was short, and that the devil was listening. His jealous ears keen on any sound that it could capture, hold and covet near his corrupted, putrid heart. Dmitri set the final board on the floor, the last thing between him and a cruel, empty, and horrible world. A world that once reached for the stars, dreaming of beauty and purity, only to be rewarded with fire and wrath. Dmitri swallowed what little saliva he could muster to cull his thirst, his throat now a cracked leather tube. He let his foot wander into the light of the night moon, its cool glow illuminating the triumph of desperation over fear. The game had now begun.
Dmitri allowed himself to slip into the moonlight, taking deep gulping breaths of fresh air. For a moment he wondered if the world had not been destroyed, if this was all a dream, but the rumbling of the earth brought him back to the cold, desolate street that was his plight. A living plague, the godless child of human greed roamed the streets, a corrupted behemoth hunting with insatiable hunger. And then there was Dmitri, a lone man, a coward driven by need and despair to acts of bravery and stupidity. Dmitri tightened the straps on his vest and took his rifle in hand before slowly, consciously, placing one foot in front of the other. Straining his eyes as he stared at the ground trying to avoid anything that could make a notable sound. He felt the earth shake, and then cease, hells hound was prowling about. Dmitri noted that the water processing complex was only some 200 meters away, and in his heart there rumbled an urge to run, gripping at his very being to break into a suicidal sprint, towards feign salvation. But Dmitri resisted in his mind the vision of the beautiful woman from his dream, and her last image as the magnificent being that she was. Dmitri inched closer with each step, gently dropping his foot down before shifting his weight, holding his gun close to his chest and clamping his vest to his body with his elbows, he waddled through the night. Each rumble seemed to inch closer as it passed, the pebbles seemed to dance above the pavement, cheering for his impending demise. And as he waddled Dmitri let his eyes venture from time to time, allowing himself to experience life before his death. He could see the streets, and their neatly paved sidewalks, marred by the blood of the fallen. Old shop windows with used clothes, marred by the still screaming faces of the victims that lay inside, with bloody handprints smeared across store signs. The brick walls turned black with soot, a gift from the phoenix's that came from above this was their masterpiece.
The world was twisted, everything turned inside out, the inner workings that were once invisible to the naked eye lay bare for all to see. Dmitri could no longer tell if this nude of nature was worth looking at, or should he rather close his eyes and pray, as his long gentle steps brought him closer to his ultimate goal. He could feel the ground shuddering, he could hear the old buildings creaking, their foundations and walls moaning, mimicking the tortured souls that perished within them, a mockery of their suffering. Dmitri fastened his eyes to his target, he was but 50 meters away, and then the rumbling stopped, and the sound of bricks thundering to the earth filled his bones with concern. And as his eyes turned to witness the beast, its massive frame had already begun to sprint towards him. The creature moving with astounding agility, tens of thousands of tendons and bones snapping and rebuilding with each second, a concert of agony approached Dmitri who without hesitation allowed his fear to rip him from his place as his heart tried to escape its hollow dwelling. Dmitri approached the doors of the water plant, and yet the massive thundering footsteps of the beast was gaining ground, as Dmitri looked back he hadn't even made it halfway and the beast was almost halfway to him. Dmitri counted the meters as the silent giant came barreling towards him, ten meters, the macabre creature was almost on top of him. Six meters, he could feel it sniffing the beads of sweat that rolled off his brow at an odd angle, almost defying gravity as it lifted them to his corrupting embrace. Four meters, Dmitri felt a giant bone hand hovering behind him, Dmitri turned his head to see the snow white bone that threatened to steal his spirit from this world. And then he felt the cold steal of the water plant doors welcoming his cheek with an unearthly slap.
Dmitri’s ears were ringing, his head spinning, and his heart struggled to break free from his bruised chest. He heard the sound of bone scraping against cement and stone, a concophany of dull snapping sounds echoing through the small hall he was in. Dmitri looked through the doorway, the beasts hand now a palm full of eyes and ears all searching and scratching wildly, the muscles and tendons struggling against the confines of the doorway, the cement slowly giving way sending cracks snaking through the building. Dmitri looked behind him, a network of pipes all writhing through and past each other, tentacles connecting all of the cities water supply, all connected to one single override valve. Dmitri dragged himself towards the valve, his muscles aching he stood and grabbed the valve. And with his muscle screaming, howling in silence, he let forth a mighty roar that seemed to deafen even the macabre child of corruption’s clawing. As the valve squealed in agony as the old rust flaked and gave way, and the machinery roared to life, filling the tendrils with watery delight, a roar echoed throughout the city outside. The beast began to claw with increased ferocity, the doorway cracking, giving way to the awful force that it held at bay. Dmitri ran towards one of the outlet pipes and began bashing it wildly with the stock of his gun, the thin pipe bending until finally the bolts shattered, let forth a torrent of high pressure water. Dmitri dropped to his knees and let the pristine drink nourish his being, drowning himself in obsession. And with his need satiated, despair turned to terror, and fear was all that remained in his heart. The Roars did not stop, the clawing did not cease, and the doorway now cracked and battered began to fall apart. The once noble doorway letting loose all the individual parts that made it so resilient. Dmitri raised his weapon and cocked the bolt, a lone round flying off into the darkness. He raised his rifle, his heart pounding and the sound of living blood rushing past his ears, the hand retreated through the doorway and a terrifying silence ensued. The water pouring from the pipe was all that roared now, tempting Dmitri to drink more, to let gluttony take over him, to satisfy his material needs before it was too late. His fear tackled the temptation, drowning it in its own lure, its own being rendering it moot, an afterthought in the great void of his thoughts.
Dmitri could see the moonlight reflecting off the street, accenting its imperfections, a signature from history. Dmitri wondered that if given enough time, if he studied the imperfections in any being he could discover its most jealously guarded secrets, its most hidden history, one that it hid from the prying eyes of the world. Keeping them close to its heart, protecting them from coming into the world and bringing them shame. But they all escaped eventually, and they returned with a vengeance. Dmitri blinked and the moonlight seemed gone, as if by the flick of a switch the wondrous scene that was laid bare before him had simply vanished, hidden under a veil of impenetrable darkness. But as he looked closer past the sights of his rifle, the flickering of a thousand wet eyeballs struck him, and his finger slipped from safety to trigger, letting thirty angry hornets fly. Each impacting the black mass with a wet thud, and as it opened its awful maw a thousand teeth revealed themselves, covered in blood and rotting flesh, and behind them tendrils made from human spinal columns realed in agony. The beast stumbled back and Dmitri looked for a way out, as his eyes spun wildly through the darkness, he saw a ladder illuminated by a golden light leading up to the rooftop. Dmitri was quick and rushed to the ladder, and just as his feet left the cold wet pavement of the water plants floor, the wild boney tendrils slammed against the walls and machinery, the sound of shattering and clattering bones filling the buildings hollow interior.
Clambering up the ladder he felt the bolts strain as the tendrils found their way after him, pulling it he heard the bolts giving way and felt the ladder bending below him. Dmitri struggled, tossing magazines and his pistol down into the bellowing depths, filled with hundreds of snaking human spines. Each time something plummeted to the ground they would swarm it, ripping it to pieces at the cost of shattered bone. Dmitri thrust one hand over the ledge, digging his fingers into the pavement above, and with one swift motion ripped himself to the open rooftop of the water plant. Dmitri looked down into the abyss he had just emerged from, water bellowing and drowning in it the tendrils seemed to be fighting each other, like vultures over a carcass. He felt something wet dripping from his hands, raising his hand into the moonlight Dmitri saw that his ascent has cost him is fingernails. And yet all of this seemed meaningless, he was trapped with a monster of the flaming sky prowling around the building. Dmitri sat up against the central pillar that held up the roof covering the rooftop of the building. He let his head rest for a moment closing his eyes. He heard the building shaking, not even armored cement could keep the devil from his prey, a new corrupted soul ripe for his reaping. And if not the devil take him then who else was more worthy, Dmitri wondered to himself. He was a sinner, an evil man like all men of his age. He abandoned his friends when they most needed him. He deserted his unit, failed those that trusted him with protection the most. All in a selfish drive for one more minute lived, one more moment witnessed. And yet as exciting as the past days had been, they all seemed empty, soulless, he walked the scorched plains of tartarus, formerly known as earth. A planet that was void of all seeds of life, castrated by the inhabitants it fostered with such care. An unnatural wind picked up and dragged Dmitri screaming from his own mind, from his own internal paradise, and face to face with the beast from below. It moved slowly as if checking to see if he was alive, its massive frame slowly prying away the metal railing as it approached him.
It was then that a heavenly light filled the darkness, illuminating the contorted mass, a face writhing with tongues and teeth approached him, rendering Dmitri’s blood cold, his hands and feet frozen in place. As the light became ever stronger did the beast slither closer, stretching its massive neck to unnatural lengths aching for a drop of blood to satiate its desire. Dmitri felt his heart sink, he was corned, and he had lost, his cowardice was for not and he began to wonder that if he had died like the rest, if he wouldn't have been spared the suffering that slowly approached him. Dmitri raised his rifle apathetically, and pulled the trigger. A resounding click filled the air, and he could swear that each of the gray eyes that swirled, diving above the flesh just to disappear below the fleshy and boney mass, were smiling in triumph.
“Fear not my child.” a woman’s voice echoed through the darkness, and Dmitri whipped his head around to see who it was. Behind him stood the woman from before, her voice as soothing as ever. Her brown eyes comforting as a mother's eyes. She approached Dmitri and grabbed his hand, reaching into his pocket she pulled out the round with his name on it. “Fear not my child for I watch over you, even in your darkest of times.” Her voice was a summer's breeze traveling alone through the night, it was the embrace that only a mother could give, and her gaze as instructive as that of a father. Her light began to fade, and Dmitri felt the coldness of the world return once again, and he felt the cold sting of the lead round in his hand. His fate, his destiny, in a single piece of led propelled by a charge of powder, engraved by the loving hands of his comrades, and guided by the ghosts that he left behind.
Pulling the Bolt back Dmitri saw the beast freeze, before shooting forward at inhuman speed. Dmitri loading the round into the chamber and dropped the bolt, placing his finger on the trigger, and pointing the muzzle in the direction of the creature. He felt a massive weight strike the rifle, pressing it into his shoulder. Dmitri squeezed the trigger as he felt his collar bone straining under the weight. He felt a warm fluid wash over him and wiping his eyes he saw the beast reeling backwards, thrashing through the roof above and falling, crashing to the earth far below. Dragging himself to the edge, his head pounding Dmitri saw the massive contorted corpse slowly fall apart. each limb seperating from the others, each bone crumbling into a thousand smaller bones each eye rolling off in its own direction, and each tongue thrashing wildly. He had slain it, the beast was dead, or was he dead. Dmitri lay on his back and let the moon hover above him. Its gleeful gaze smiling upon its champion. He could have sworn that he could see the woman in the heavens, a guiding golden star smiling down upon him. A star that seemed to come closer, its golden blinding light eclipsing that of the moon. Dmitri closed his eyes, and as the darkness seemed to circle him one last time he felt at ease, as the sound of boots hitting the ground and a group familiar voice pierced the night sky.
“We’ve got a live one! We need MedEvac now!” a voice all to familiar, punctuated with the sound of blades cutting through the air. A voice he knew all too well. Welcome home Dmitri thought to himself as he let himself slip into the darkness of the night, and the silence of what he could only assume was his final salvation. He wasn’t ready to die after all… yet.
-Bogatyrius