He was scared. He’d never forget the sight of dozens of people running in terror, screaming for salvation to any god that would listen. Those people ran away, away from the bus that might carry them out of London and to anywhere else in England. But they also ran away from thirteen dread beasts with bodies vaguely resembling a wolf’s – if they were maybe twice their regular size and armored with scales that appeared thicker than the body armor soldiers wore.

Maybe Florian would have been smart to follow suit, but that bus had been so damn close. Only fifteen feet separated him from the nearest, the few passengers inside gesturing to him as if they were mad. Florian ran for it, praying that the beasts would ignore him for the ten seconds it would take for him to find safety. It wasn’t to be the case. Only a few people had chosen to take their chances as he had, and it was their reduced numbers that doomed them.

One by one, these beasts leapt to the people around him, their golden scales glinting despite the overcast sky above. Crimson flew into the air in streams, evaporating off the wolves from Hell as soon as it landed on them. These were no natural creatures, but Florian didn’t have the time to consider that fact any further. They were on him.

Every footfall took an eternity, but as the woman next to him – a young lady in her early twenties, like him – burst into a cloud of red, Florian saw his doom approach. Three wolves, their reptilian eyes unblinking, dropped what was left of the woman.

But voices shouted encouragement. The bus driver, an elderly man with more courage than Florian felt he might be able to muster in his circumstances, kept the bus doors open, waiting for his last passenger. Heart soaring despite himself, Florian leapt the final four feet. When he landed in the bus, he clutched the seat next to him with all his might. His heart pounded with adrenaline, and he heard someone screaming as the bus’s door closed.

It wasn’t until they slammed shut and the pain hit him that he recognized the screams as his own. His left leg flared in pain, as if it had been broken and then run over by a pickup. Except… he didn’t have a left leg. Not anymore.

The bus sped off, driving through the pack of thirteen Hell-wolves. London around them lay devastated, overrun with the monsters. A nurse tended to him then, though Florian could hardly focus long enough to realize that she was there to help. She ripped open the bus’s first-aid kit, wrapping gauze around his stub until she ran out. Florian had lived through much, through the occasional beat-down and that one time he got shot, but never had he felt anything quite like this.

Sleep tugged at his eyelids, turning them to lead. The man tending to him shook him awake, concern and despair written in his eyes in equal measure. Florian recognized the need to stay awake; if he fell asleep, he might not wake up again. Instead, Florian did what he could to turn his attention to the city around him, though it painted a bleak picture. The few men and women that still ran through the streets had all accrued wounds of their own, and all were followed closely by all manner of wolves, lions, and tigers. There were no children.

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“Airport,” he got through gritted teeth.

The nurse leaned closer, “what was that?”

“I need. To get. To the. Airport.”

The nurse relayed Florian’s request to the bus driver, who couldn’t spare a glance as he said, “I’m sorry, son, but we’re going straight to the RAF base. If we’re lucky, they’ll have a doctor there that can help you.”

Florian grimaced. He’d been not fifteen minutes away from London-Heathrow when the world had come crashing down. It had been the taxi cab driver’s, “What the fuck is that?” that first alerted him to the wolves. They seemingly appeared from underground, their golden bodies launching from the earth with such velocity that the nearest pedestrians stood no chance at all. There had been closer to forty of them, then, but with prey surrounding them on all sides, they quickly split up.

The thirteen that remained quickly dispelled any notion of safety within the taxi. Ripping open the car in front of them with their claws, dragging their victim who hit them for everything he was worth out of the ruined shell, the wolves began to feast on the few people that remained behind. It was then that the taxi driver looked at Florian, the last part of his professionalism warring with his survival instincts, before he took off and ran. He didn’t make it very far.

Florian watched the failed attempt, resolving himself to wait for better timing before doing the same. Everyone else had apparently made the same decision, and when no one left their cars, the wolves resumed their grisly hunt. One by one, cars were cut to pieces, their occupants eaten alive. The world’s deadliest game of chicken had begun. Florian, for whatever it was worth, was the winner.

When the man ran, Florian slipped from the taxi, sprinting the opposite way and hoping to find something more substantial than a car. The buildings surrounding the street had all been broken into, the screams that had all but permeated London’s air the loudest from within their confines. If the buildings weren’t safe, Florian would have to leave London.

Much of the streets were clear of cars, save for those intersections were cars had stopped for red lights, much as Florian’s taxi had been. Florian could only guess the contents of the text message the driver at the light had probably been occupied with.

It was then that he had come across the bus, along with the crowd of people that had managed to evade the first few wolves.

Florian watched as the nurse fussed about him, screaming at the bus driver to hurry. The driver screamed back that it wasn’t possible, indicating at his fully extended foot. Florian withdrew into himself, knowing nothing but pain until someone picked him up by his shoulders. Focusing, Florian breathed a sigh of relief. Content with the sight of a man in military uniform and a red cross on his arms, Florian closed his eyes, giving into the oblivion that had called for him for so long.

And that, that had been only the first day.