Exhausted to the point of impotence, I got up, leaning on the bed. The pajamas fell with a rustle on the dirty sheet.
Dragging my feet, I went to the window. As expected, my screams didn't attract creatures, let alone humans. The street was completely destroyed, as if it had survived a fierce war: destroyed houses, several overturned cars, fallen trees, and not a single living soul.
I frowned, feeling that I was missing something important, and looked down. Stunned by the surprise, I recoiled from the window, and bent down, fighting an attack to let out the remains of the last meal.
A slight dizziness was accompanied by a tingling in the back of the head. Swaying, I went out into the corridor, noting the complete devastation in every room, right down to the bathroom.
I turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop seeing that terrible image in front of me.
The twisted body of a creature, unprecedented and ugly. It was sprawled out under my window, like a gray blur. The gutted belly was teeming with flies and thick, shiny maggots. The shattered jaw was practically torn off from the triangular, elongated skull. The arms were twisted at an unimaginable angle, and there were missing pieces of flesh on the sides...
[Enough.]
I opened my eyes and looked into the broken mirror. The thin cracks made my reflection a little scary: bruises under the eyes, a broken mouth, a pale face, reddened, burst capillaries.
[If only these were the results of the fight.]
With a grim smile, I stood under a cold shower and slowly began to wash the wounds.
The soap burned, and I had to use my fingers to get rid of the dried blood.
I pulled out the first aid kit from the mezzanine. Using daylight, I treated the wounds as best I could and bandaged them.
Having already changed my clothes, I found my phone among the damaged things. It looked like a pancake made of glass and metal. I tried to turn it on, but it seemed to have exhausted its own strength limit.
[In such a situation, I won't be able to contact my parents.]
I examined all the corners and, finding a backpack, began to stuff the surviving clothes. At some point, I also came across my sister's flashlight with a broken handle. After wiping it with the pads of my fingers, I put it in the pocket of my hoodie.
Throwing on my backpack, I picked up the bat and left the room.
I went to my parents' bedroom. What did I want to do?
To make sure personally that they are not there and were not there?
An overturned double bed with broken legs and a chandelier lying right in the middle of the room.
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Only the sight of my mother's favorite canvas, which turned out to be untouched in this place, brought me to my senses.
Coming closer, I wiped the remnants of gray dust from the surface of the mahogany. Something crunched under my feet. Looking down, I saw a photo. Catching myself, I picked it up. The frame slipped off my hand, the shards fell to the floor with a clink, but I continued to look at the still happy smiles of the family.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I couldn't help but ask.
[And why are you smiling?]
I carefully put the photo in the inside pocket of my backpack.
"I'll find you no matter what."
Covering my sister's bed with a torn blanket, I put a pink hare with a torn ear on top of the pillow.
"Just... be alive."
Having gone down to the first floor, I ate a hearty meal and put the provisions together with the rest of my belongings, which significantly burdened my burden.
Thinking about self-defense, I took a cleaver, tied a homemade leather jacket sheath to my hip, and inserted a sharp knife into them.
After tying my shoelaces, I took a last look around the house and opened the front door with a hidden hope deep in my chest.
[I need to go to my parents for work.]
I wanted to find support in a suddenly changed world. And the abduction of my sister still made me fear the unknown.
Where is she? Is she alive? What happened to her after the abduction?
In order not to go crazy from such thoughts, I chose the shortest way. Keep yourself busy.
[The parents' work is about 30 minutes away by bus, not counting traffic jams or other unforeseen situations. I can hardly run away from the creatures on my own two feet, so...]
With these words, I took a step towards my bike, but already from a distance, I noticed the very deplorable state of my native transport. I had to admit that because of the twisted metal, I would have to put twice as much effort as without it.
Mentally apologizing to my neighbor, I jumped over the fence and looked around the small courtyard. The black yawn of the burnt-out windows made me cringe.
[I can't stay in the house, if those critters come back, they'll probably find me.]
The stream of thoughts was interrupted by the glimmer of the steering wheel peeking out from under a lush lilac branch.
Pulling out almost a whole neighbor's bicycle, I breathed a sigh of relief.
The painkillers worked as expected. I pedaled and occasionally drove around the wreckage. The bloody footprints on the asphalt were sometimes erased by tires, but there was nothing I could do.
The road already left much to be desired.
The street was accompanied by the sullen silence of birds, only the merciless wind ruffled dry leaves, grass and the ruins of once bright houses.
Open car doors, broken headlights and shattered windows flashed by as I rapidly moved through the neighborhood.
At some point, the roar of the wind was joined by a metallic screech. I stopped and looked around.
[Echo... There must be something going on on the main street.]
Squinting, I decided to move faster and not make too much noise.
Soon, with an internal struggle, I braked the bike next to the consequences of a serious accident, where it was impossible to count the number of cars crashing into each other.
The remains of twisted steel tightly blocked the intersection. The salons, compressed beyond recognition, seemed to look at me with prejudice.
All this time, the screeching only got stronger. I knew I could expect anything when I rounded the cars from a more spacious part of the road. Squatting down, I put my palm to the ground and, pushing off with my fingers, slightly raised my head, trying to see the source of the noise.
The first thing I noticed were the iron cans hitting the asphalt and making a familiar grinding sound.
The pieces of iron were attached to the rear bumper of a car that was driving slowly about 100 meters away from me.
Thinking over all possible options for the following actions, I touched the cleaver on my hip.
The car was approaching me, and I strained my eyes, trying to make out the driver, but nothing came out.
I took a long shard that fell under my hands, hid it in the sleeve of my hoodie and left the makeshift wall, pressing my fingers to the back of my head.
Frozen in an uncomfortable position, I clenched my jaw until it hurt. The sound of brakes echoed through the surroundings. A moment later, I heard a familiar male voice shouting at me:
"Ethan, is that you?"