He had slept longer than he had intended to.

The assurance of electricity and fresh water from last nights rainfall gave him much comfort, but he shivered till the early shafts of morning light touched his building. When he had awoken to the light he was so damn weary he merely covered his eyes with an arm and slept on in the dawn warmth. Though, it was still late morning when he awoke; quarter to ten-o’clock as professed by his watch. He could have slept through the whole day; he had forgotten the last time he had the opportunity to sleep as much as he wanted despite the discomfort. Yet, his stomach growled and murmured at him to get up and try to find something to pacify it. When he stood he realized how sore he was, wishing not for the last time to have somewhere soft to sleep, if not an actual bed.

After a couple minutes of getting his meager possessions packed and in order he was on his way outside. It was just as hot and muggy as it was yesterday, in spite of the thick cloud cover above. At least it had provided him a more abundant amount of fresh water in the street, which he drank enough of to try and trick his stomach into being full along with filling his water bag. With this new morning routine out of the way, he plodded along on the heading he had chosen yesterday: slightly downhill and to the West.

He felt as though he was in higher spirits, despite still getting used to his surroundings. There was hope that he had upon witnessing the lamps come alight outside. Surely there should be someone, somewhere, that is producing power for the grid. Perhaps a town of sorts and the lights in the city simply being of a tangential connection? Additionally - if he found a building with lighting fixtures and perhaps some appliances - there was a chance he could create a sort of urban homestead to live from while he explored, gathered and hunted.

A smile began to form on his face as he slowly moved along, skirting the sharp rocks as they emerged from the grasses and brush. The worries that had plagued him for the last couple of weeks - couple of years, to be more thorough - were suddenly and completely vanquished; the physical causes of them, at least. Sure, the necessities of food and water were a bit irregular in this world and he would have to provide for himself from hand to mouth, but, its better than being leashed to The Party for his food or starving at the mercy of It’s whims.

Keeping on at a comfortable pace he appreciated the architecture and engineering around him, pausing every so often to peer at worn street signs to understand where he was. Just like every other one he had passed, the markings had mostly faded away long ago, yet, some of the more preserved lettering was surely in a familiar form. Perhaps the language of this city was precisely the same as his own? That would be a tremendous stroke of luck if it were; just imagine all the books he could gather and scavenge knowledge and entertainment from!

In his pseudo-archaeological musings and observations he didn’t notice the figure in the road before him till he had to clamber over a particularly large bit of rubble blocking the street. It was less than a block ahead of him when he froze, having noticed it standing behind a rather shaggy bush beneath a sizable tree. His hand dropped down and fumbled to draw the handgun from his hip, deciding on suspicion and caution rather than stroking his curiosity. The figure had yet to move or turn in his direction and from this distance he could make out it’s large head and arms, though it seemed less human the more he looked at it.

Creeping through the brush as quietly as he could, the green reticle on the handgun’s optic trained on the strange form in the shade ahead of him, daring not to take more than a shallow breath. During his approach birds exchanged their warning calls to one another before taking flight from the trees and brush, the cautious man flinching at the raucous escape of the songbirds. Yet, the silhouette remained still as a statue, as if intent upon something at it’s feet.

Only a minute passed in his furtive approach, but it felt like an eternity with his weapon clasped in his hands and unblinking eyes on his target. In only another minute he felt like an utter fool as he noticed the vines and moss that had long taken hold of what was once an object of suspicion. With a re-holstering of his gun he let out the breath he had been holding and strode forward to take a better look, his curiosity overpowering his caution.

It was a robot, of sorts. Rather tall and quite large, it’s purpose seemed to be that of a sanitary worker. It’s arms were long with rather pointed fingers for gathering up trash and to it’s mechanical waist a rather large and deep bin on wheels had been leashed to it. It did not have legs but, rather, some wide treads that were made of since dry-rotted rubber. It’s head, lastly, was rather blocky; housing a singular ‘eye’ and sporting a rather rakish antenna.

“I suppose it is you I must thank for being unable to find any bottles.” He remarked to the dead machine as he perused its corpse.

He had seen robots before, of course, though these were only during military parades and the rare ‘private’ tests he bothered to show up to. Compared to this specimen - despite the rust and lichen that dissolve its fine components - those were only stanchions to hang propaganda and hollow laurels of progress upon. He didn’t know much about robotics, but he made an assumption that seeing one holding such a plain yet valuable occupation meant that whoever designed it surely must have been a genius. He couldn’t imagine the effort it would have taken to create such a machine that could navigate this vast city and not get stuck or cause problems for people. It’s joints were immaculate, made of a robust metal that was very precisely fitted to his eyes. The machine seemed to have been built to fold itself into a much smaller space compared to it’s current corrosion-locked posture.

After a short melancholic pause he wondered to himself as to how this world came to such a state. With this city still standing after apparent decades, such incredible technology and the flow of electricity still present in it’s crumbling veins; how come no one is around? Why did everyone leave? Surely they left voluntarily or else there would be corpses and ruin in the streets beyond the sands of time.

Strangely he felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and he allowed himself a chuckle as he climbed upon the stoic automaton: “I suppose I have all the time in the world to answer that question. Surely coming up with questions and trying to answer them will keep me going, even if I am alone.”

He managed to grapple himself up enough to peer into the tote that was attached to the robot and was pleasantly surprised at the horde of treasures within. There was plenty of bottles mixed within a deep mess of compost and leaves that were nourishing a small amount of seedlings. Though, as he dug through, every single plastic he grabbed crumbled in on themselves and turned into chips and dust.

At the end of his dumpster diving he found only a half-dozen bottles that were of any use. Though they were made of glass they lacked caps and were choked full of dirt, compost and whatever vague, sticky remnants of what they once contained. Regardless, he put them in his bag, reasoning that he could boil water in them sometime later. He would have preferred to have found some metal containers, but every one he found was too rusted through to use or so thin it was pocked with holes. Surely he could find some in the future, hopefully of a suitable enough condition for his needs.

As he hopped down from his rummaging perch, he took a second look at the treads of the robot. He had doubted they would have held his weight, but they did while he awkwardly stood on one leg and dug around. Without further pause he fished around in his bag and pulled out the pocket-knife and began the surprisingly laborious task of cutting the rubber from where it was held by the robot’s drive-train.

Apart from some cracks in the material it wasn’t in the worst shape, as far as he could tell. It’s new purpose wouldn’t be all that different from it’s intended one at any rate, at least once he found some way to fasten it to his foot. That would have to come later and he stuffed the rubber mat into his bag and continued on his journey, giving a half-hearted wave at the dead street-cleaning robot as he turned away.

He had plenty of time to think as he sawed through rather than cut the rubber plate and he had made another decision. He wanted to press onwards to the water that he thought was on the horizon, it was certainly the most sizable landmark that wasn’t a sky scraper. Additionally an abundance of water, as his father had told him, would be a place that plenty of animals would flock to. He would only want for something to occupy his mind and for a comfortable place to retire to. It wouldn’t be that difficult, he reasoned, to set up snares through trial and error, make a bow for larger game and live comfortably from there. But for right now, he needed to provide some insurance that he would make it there. Ducking into yet another empty building he found a place to sit down, where he could lash together some kind of sandal from the rubber he had reclaimed.

Before too long he had shaped the tough slab into something that resembled the flat sole of a shoe, but, he had ran into an issue on how exactly he could keep it attached to his foot. He wasn’t exactly as handy with knots and rope as he was with glassware and chemicals, even if he had any rope to use. It completely slipped his mind to have taken any kind of cordage with him when he packed his bag. Then again, he didn’t think he would be in such a situation where he would need any so desperately. Only now did he realize how important something so simple, yet versatile could have been to someone as isolated and ill-equipped as he. Forgotten were the moments of interest in bush-craft that he hadn’t had the idea to bring any rope with him.

There were several minutes where he walked around the lobby of the building searching for any kind of lashing, but there was none to be found. He considered trying to get into the walls of the building to find some wires to use, but he was just as poor of an electrician as he was a survivalist. The fear of getting shocked, burned and potentially dying kept him from even attempting an expedition into the cracking drywall. Surly if the street lamps gathered power there should be at least some running through the buildings.

“Perhaps… I’ll need to risk it in the future.” He said aloud, looking towards the building’s stairwell; wondering if it was worth stalking up yet another flight of stairs in the attempt of finding something of use.

He only took a couple steps towards the stairwell before he decided against it, sitting down once again and puzzling over his crude footwear. Eventually he decided to cut apart the vest he had wrapped around his foot up until this point. As loathed as he was to do it - the fabric providing some warmth in the night - the sacrifice was worthwhile enough to be able to walk quicker without damaging his foot.

The whole process took about an hour and several iterations of trial, error, failed knots and dozens of frustrated swears at each unsuccessful attempt. However, with enough time he eventually threw together a bizarre web of scrap cloth that wove through holes punched in the rubber that held up to his gait. The strips of what was once his vest were surprisingly comfortable around his ankle and the simple knot kept it in place reasonably well. The real test would be for how long his cobbled together sandal would hold together.

It took longer than he would have liked, but the stop more than made up for the time he saved in traveling towards the water he saw on the horizon. There was more ground covered in that last half of a day than the previous twenty-four hours. It helped that much of the detritus on his downward path had apparently been pushed to the sides of the roads by the rains. In a city as grand as this there was very little for rainfall to be absorbed by, so anything in its path ways tossed to the side in the heavier storms or moved subtly over a period of months and years.

From within one of these dry, urban creek-beds it was discovered that the body of water he had seen in the distance wasn’t at all what he expected. Instead of the city being built upon the banks of a lake he saw, it was the lake that had actually encroached on the city itself. Before him many of the buildings had been sunk or otherwise flooded by the rising waters, these appearing to be more weathered and run down than any other he had seen so far. It was far from surprising, as the closer he got to the shores of this lake the realization dawned upon him that he couldn’t even see the far bank of it. He had heard of large bodies of water being able to generate their own weather systems. Those buildings out in the water would bear the brunt of any waves and winds moving inland.

The buildings around him began to change, though he hadn’t paid much notice as he was often distracted by messing with his new apparel. Sometimes the vest scraps would pinch his skin in odd ways or the knot would give way when he made more ambitious steps over obstacles. It certainly wasn’t an ideal fix, but it worked most of the time. As he gazed around now, he realized he had entered an entirely different district of the city. Buildings around him had become less towering, the spaces between them less claustrophobic and the evident purpose of the buildings shifting from commercial to industrial in nature. It looked like, from his limited perspective, that most of the high density areas of the city stretched northward while the materially productive parts did the opposite.

It was a space that was more familiar to him, though mostly flooded. The skyline was less cluttered, now only dotted with the occasional high building, most of the buildings being large warehouses or lots for storing materials. The fenced in areas that were close or on dry land - to his surprise - actually had various raw materials staged in them like steels, kinds of wood or great baskets of miscellaneous types of items. He absolutely itched to start digging through more rubbish for anything of use, but a few thoughts stopped him.

The first one was the sudden realization he was was oddly giddy about digging through trash. The next thought was a more practical one: He didn’t care for climbing over the rusted, barb-wire topped fence or wading through the water to find an entrance into the building. Lastly, he wanted to clean out the precious bottles that were clinking around in his satchel, both to keep his bag from getting any dirtier and so he could keep a supply of water with him. He just needed to look around for some sand and perhaps a stick to scrape the scum and dirt out from inside the bottles. Perhaps he could even whittle down some of the slimmer branches of bushes to make rudimentary stoppers for his scavenged canteen bottles.

Another thirty minutes passed and the clouds above were starting to roil and swirl together, a bit of a light breeze kicking up into a gentle gust as the heavens threatened to, yet again, douse the earth. In that time, the wandering chemist hadn’t had much luck in finding much sand, though slim sticks were in abundance as he walked northward, there was more area for the scrub plants. His jouney had brought him to a sort of swampy land, like the head of a slow moving river, the ground mostly silt, save for patches of urban lawn between buildings and paths. He had considered just using dirt, but discounted it almost instantly. He was looking to clean dirt out, not put more dirt into the bottles… it would make a great mess as well. However, it seems like the oracles of luck were smiling kindly upon misplaced wanderers on this day.

He had some notion that, perhaps, in such a city filled with aesthetic beauty and ornamental architecture, there would be some landscaped features filled with sand he could use. And, Behold! The city did provide for him, though only after more walking and the sky growing progressively more dark. There was a rather large building ahead of him, bearing a standing logo on it’s roof with letters in an order that he could understand. With glee, he read the part of the sign that was still somewhat legible to him: “Motors.” Much of the other letters had since fallen from the sign.

Clearly this building was once an assembly plant for engines or even the full vehicles that they would go into. What was more presently valuable to him was the landscaping feature in front of it: an artistic collage like statue that stood at the edge of the water and was surrounded by a small sand and rock garden. Beyond the artistic piece, there were two sets of doors, the first were standard lobby doors flanked by windows. The other were built by a corner in the building, making a partially hidden area where the remains of a picnic table laid. The doors, being made of metal and one hanging open slightly, probably gave access too and from a break and smoking area, something familiar from his old life. With a relieved smile that came from his search being over he took a few steps towards the waters edge but suddenly noticed a pungent odour hanging in the air. It smelt like discarded meat and he also began to notice a cloud of flies flitting around in front of him.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The source of the stench, he hadn’t realized until now, was just at his feet and tangled within the swamp and water loving plants. He grimaced as he bent down to take a closer look but recoiled away from the rot assailing his nose. It was some kind of small animal, but whatever it was had been too torn to shreds for an amateur like him to identify. His stomach began to turn in knots, both from the smell and seeing that the majority of the corpse left behind was only ripped skin and crushed bones. An amateur like him knew, at the very least, that something bigger had killed and eaten the rest of it somewhat recently.

As unnerved as he was he brushed it aside but was effectively warned that something that enjoys meat had made this area it’s haunt. He had seen plenty of animals as they were flushed from the underbrush by his clumsy progress; surely he was safe now. He knelt at the waters edge and took the bottles from the bag, two of them being rather sizable wine bottles and the rest some kind of beer bottle, though the labels on all of them had since fallen away. It turned into a very similar routine to one of his responsibilities in his profession: cleaning glassware. Letting himself relax he rinsed the bottles, dug organic gunk out with a thin stick, wishing for a long handled bristle-brush and listening to the sounds of the nature conquered city around him.

As with all mundane chores that must be done, he let his mind wander as his hands packed bottles with sand and water and shook them vigorously to abrade the filth from the glass. The sky above was becoming ever darker and he was becoming concerned that he would have to eventually find some shelter, perhaps for the rest of the night. Though, in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t too much of an issue.

The quality of water he was working with, however, would be an enduring problem from what he could see. He was used to seeing small aquatic plants, tiny fishes and clear water when his father took him to the streams and ponds in the country when he wasn’t confined to a bed in his childhood. It looked like that here - with the murk and the slight smell of sulphur coming off the water - the water wouldn’t be potable in the slightest. In fact, he felt that the filter he had gone through much trouble to purchase was turning increasingly worthless in this crumbled city. Before too long he would have to find some way to distill the water to make sure it was completely safe to drink.

The washing was going well, the filth that stained the bottles didn’t take much persuasion to relinquish it’s staining grasp. He thought about filling all the bottles with water and taking them along, but the thought of this tepid water damaging the other goods in his bag dissuaded him. Besides, he was in the presence of more water than he could do anything with. It was only a means of sticking to the shore and distilling water as he needed it. Yet, as he placed the empty bottles in his bag a thought occurred to him. Surely there was a more permanent water-source that fed this urban lake?

“Yeah, be a pain in the ass to distill water every day…” He muttered, closing his bag and shifting some leftover scraps of what was once his vest to stop the annoying clinking of the bottles. Unbeknownst to him in his liquid pondering, the songbirds that had previously been singing freely had suspiciously gone quiet after some raucous warning calls.

“I have tonight to collect rain water, if the weather keeps up like this, but I can’t rely on only tha-,”

His own comment was cut off by a distant movement off to his periphery. He turned, sure he had seen something moving close against the ground, yet when he looked towards this interruption he initially questioned if he had actually seen anything. The cracks in his spectacle lens weren't helping either and he was about to turn away when something quickly leapt out from the long water-weeds towards him.

“Oh, shit…,”

A panic arose in him and he turned to run as he heard a reptilian hiss from behind him, the sound of clawed feet rapidly slapping against the ground as the creature chased him. His flight felt as though he was running from something in a nightmare, his sprint slower than his nonathletic norm, hampered by his crude attempt at footwear. The goal of his retreat was the slightly ajar door that was only a couple dozen strides ahead of him, if he could make it there he would be safe.

That is if the old doors would hold…

It felt like it was his only hope, beyond those old, steel doors. His legs pounding the sand, then long grass, then cracked concrete while his lungs gasped for air and his heart thumped so loud in his ears he couldn’t tell if it was his own pulse or his pursuer’s footsteps. As he sprinted his hand smacked painfully into the holster at his side but he fretted that he couldn’t draw it in time to have any sway over his death. He had little time to regret drawing his firearm, but as that thought came to his mind, he realized vividly that there was regret he could fixate on.

He didn’t want to die… not again. He couldn’t bear it a second time. Even thinking about it drove him onwards to gather up speed he didn’t know is body could wield. He forgot his panting breath and burning lungs and bashed his body through the doorway only to reverse speed and brace against the door again. There was a momentary pause before and almighty smash jolted the entire frame of the door, the creature letting out an apparently annoyed hiss.

A brief moment of triumph and relief flooded through him and he could have let his shaking knees give out beneath him, if not for a repeated slam against the closed door. The entrance opened up a few inches before clattering shut again as he pushed back against the reptilian beast. For a couple moments this violent dance was performed a few more times, his shield being thrust backwards further and further with each strike; at least until a long claw suddenly appeared right next to his face.

Yelping, rather childishly, he jerked his head back as the wriggling, black claw began peel open the thin steel of the door with the ease of a can-opener. His breath was coming in short, jumpy gasps as the predator began to open up a hole through the door itself, it's natural weaponry starting to make a hole large enough for it's scaled hand to break through. He pressed all his weight against the door, but there was no escape from becoming this creature’s meal. With a frustrated grunt he peeled one arm away from the door and pulled his gun from it’s holster, the weight of his attacker slowly pushing him back and forcing the punctured door open.

Shoving it against the door he rattled off several rounds, the sharp reports from the weapon causing his ears to immediately ring in such a confined space. As the piercing sound peaked and sluggishly started to recede, the force pushing the door inward suddenly relented and he could have sworn he heard the sound of a fleeing skitter through the damaged door. He hadn’t noticed when he entered, but the hallway he was in was pitch-dark, save for the new holes that let light into the building. Letting the panic release it’s grip on him he doubled forward and began to pant, trying to stop hyperventilation from attacking his lungs.

Once his nerves had been gathered back up he took a nervous glance through the new peep-holes in the door. To his relief the creature had vanished and through an opened crack in the door he was greeted with a satisfying dribble of blood on the concrete in a trail away from its injury. He let out a final deep breath and he let calm fully replace his panic; sitting in the darkness and letting his heart settle to a point where it didn’t feel like it would hop out of his chest. Yet, as he was calm he began to think more logically and became worried that perhaps the monster would come back after it regained it’s own courage and tended to it’s wounds.

After picking up the ejected shell-casings from the floor and squirreling them into his bag he tasked himself with going deeper into the building. He felt blessed and a belated thankfulness to that guerrilla woman for giving him the specific pistol in his hands. It was an extremely modern piece, manufactured to be the military’s new sidearm with all the bells-and-whistles: optic, light and a laser. Though he was unsure of how long the battery would last, it was fresh as far as he knew and should last a decent while. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he could find replacement batteries for both the flashlight and the optic, but he wondered if that was too wishful.

None-the-less, the torch switched on and the claustrophobic darkness receded from the cone of light projecting from under the handgun’s barrel. In the new light that filled the hallway he was surprised, rather pleasantly, to see a row of chairs against the wall and several pictures hanging up across from them. In such a barren and lifeless city, even such regular decor soothed an anxiety inside him that he hadn’t noticed, till now. Perhaps there were still some things to scavenge from this city, maybe even some creature comforts.

Moving pass the furniture and decorations, the hallway ended at an intersection with another set of double doors and a short hallway leading to an office area. To further satisfy his suspicions - though he felt he should leave the area as quickly as possible - he checked the cubicles before breaching the other set of doors. His suspicions were correct, though he wondered why this was. Much like the entrance hallway, the cubicles were furnished with the usual and mundane objects of an office space. However, why here? Why were all the high-rise buildings stripped of anything valuable as well as the otherwise trivial objects?

He shook his head and backtracked, confused by his findings as well as disappointed at not being able to search more throughly. There were plenty of cubicles to ransack, on top of all the desk draws there were to rifle through, but he just had to get out of here. Steadily his concern was beginning to rise as he heard rain patter and then pound upon the metal roof above him and he abandoned his perplexing surroundings. He needed to get out of this building… no; this whole city. There was no telling how many of those creatures were around, if they were attracted to loud sounds… or if they were smart enough to use the cover of rain and darkness for an ambush.

It was luck; unabashed luck that he managed this far without encountering the monsters that apparently made this city their home.

Pushing through the double doors, he found himself on the factory floor: the entire objective of the building. One of his assumptions about the building’s name was correct: it seemed this particular factory made automotive engines. Of an impressive variety, no less, guessing by the different sizes of engines in various stages of assembly or repair. Though he didn’t have a mechanical inclination at all, as he swept his light around he couldn’t help but be impressed by the layout of the facility. Through some of dust and rust motes falling from the ceiling and the age upon the machinery, the facility was otherwise spotless save for the occasional toppled shelf and an industrial air conditioning unit which had fallen through the ceiling.

Wavering light shone through the hole as rain poured through it, pooling upon the concrete floor before flowing towards the darkness of the rearmost wall of the factory. Initially he thought he could have climbed up the tall warehouse shelving, but he discarded that thought immediately when he saw on the far side of the facility another set of doors with an unlit ‘EXIT’ sign above it. Yet as he looked through the cavernous room a reflection caught his eye just a few steps before him, a lustrous sheen that winked at him from a shelf as his light passed over it.

It was on his way to the exit, after-all, might as well take a look, he thought to himself as he walked down a couple of steps onto the floor.

To his joy, it was a coil of thin copper tubing that was resting in a shallow box with some other vague engine parts and various mechanical opuses that were certainly integral to the function of an engine. Not that he would know it, however.

There was perhaps twenty or so feet in the patina-tinged coil and he eagerly stuffed it into his bag with the gleeful intention of using it in his water purification endeavours. In another moment of awareness of his goals, he let out a half-chuckle at his yearning to simply distill water, as it was one of the most basic chemical experiments any primary-school student could preform. The blissful moment was brutally ruptured by a sky-splitting thunderclap and an eerie flash of light that blasted through the hole in the ceiling and he jumped in fright at the vocalizations of the growing storm above. He didn’t care to spend a night in this factory, not with that creature about nor within this storm.

As he shuffled forward he realized that he underestimated how much of the building was flooded; his mismatched foot-ware first slipping in the film of water before his feet began getting soaked as the murky water deepened. It was oddly slippery as he made towards his goal, a slick muck covering the floor in the deeper waters. He suddenly had the feeling that the building was sluggishly sinking down into the earth it had been built upon, mud flowing in from cracks in the floor and holes in the wall. As the mud sucked at his feet, trying to snatch his rubber flip-flop from his foot and trip him into the tepid water he noticed a different smell in the air.

He wasn’t all together sure when he first noticed it, but it felt rather familiar with a vague and nostalgic quality. However, it certainly wasn’t a pleasant smell. In fact, it smelt of excrement and ammonia, the stench becoming noticeably more pungent and… fresh.

Then, three things happen in a quick succession.

First: the man passing through this industrial facility had an eureka moment, connecting his memories to the present. It was a pleasant yet disgusting memory of his older sister dealing with some large lizard and it’s ongoing indigestion while visiting her workplace with his father. Though she was several years his elder, she had the pleasant kindness and cheerful demeanour of a curious child who liked animals. It was little surprise that she wanted to study veterinary medicine and biology.

The second was a mound of mud that he nearly fell into that had an eye-watering vapour hanging over them. The heap was made mostly of mud but as he skirted around it he noticed a depression in the top of it along with some speckled white orbs nestled into the sludge… large eggs, he quickly realized.

However, the events that replayed in his mind as he would later think back on his moment revolved only around what happened next.

From the darkness a powerful, bass rumble erupted that seemed to ripple the very water he stood in and an abrupt silence followed. Then came a gasping inhale that filled monstrous lungs for another deep-throated bellow, the approaching splashes were nearly drowned out by the rumbling threat. In a panic he raised his handgun against the approaching creature, getting only a glimpse of it’s horrific form before completely losing his nerve and breaking into an all-out sprint to the factories exit. The moment this monstrosity was revealed, predatory eyes reflecting the light, it’s thick scaled body glistening with water and damp algae and terrifying jaws filled with large, conical teeth. Yet what struck him most in that brief moment was the gargantuan height of the creature as it stood on two legs and glared down upon him.

As he fled and smashed his way out of the doors and into the raging storm the reptilian mother calmly receded back into the water, assured that her unhatched brood were safe yet again. The hunt would have to begin once they had hatched.