An explosion echoed a few blocks away; they are becoming more frequent over time.
'More common and closer to the alley. I think you better hurry and get out' The voice warned.
"There is no other place; everything has been destroyed. THERE IS NO SAFE PLACE!" the boy retorted.
'Are you going to cower? Give up now? After all we've done to get here?' The voice seemed more agitated with each sentence.
"I'm not a coward! I just don't know what to do anymore!" He stood up abruptly. "Do you think I want to die here?" His breathing became erratic.
His eyes were red; some veins may have burst from the recent effort. His face wasn't much better, with several bruises scattered from the jaw to the forehead. The rest of his body couldn't be seen under the clothes, but by the way he stood, his leg was obviously injured.
'That's what it looks like. We've been here for over an hour; this is the closest the explosions have come in hours, and with your damn leg, I don't think we'll be able to walk faster than they're approaching.'
"Why don't you shut the FUCK UP!" He shouted as he took a step. "Ugh..." He leaned against the wall with a groan and slid to the ground. For a few seconds, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. One... Two...
"Shit..." He squeezed his hair with his hands. "And now..."
After a moment of silence, he heard.
'Get up.'
"I can't anymore..." he whimpered.
'It's not a request; it's an order. Get up!' the voice exclaimed.
After a few seconds, he began to move. They were not confident movements, and only a few steps he took really led him more than a few inches in front of him, but this time he didn't give up.
After a few more minutes, he finally managed to reach the end of the alley. The voice said nothing more during the journey, something he deeply appreciated.
Looking back one last time before leaving, he finally gathered the courage to take a step forward. Staggering due to the sudden loss of support, he pointed his head to the sky for the first time since the beginning of the devastation.
The usual blue had been replaced by purple; the clouds now seemed denser than ever. The sun had disappeared a long time ago, long before the sky changed color. There, just beyond those clouds, exactly to the right, lies the reason to avoid staring at the sky. Now, you can only contemplate his eyes, crimson like the blood flowing in his veins and shining like the sun once was. He is unmistakable.
He brings death.
Death? However, it is so magnificent. Something so beautiful cannot be destructive; in fact, it brings rebirth. Yes, that's it; he is our hope, our future. We should worship him, oh grandiose...
The boy shakes his head, quickly losing the little balance he had gained and collapsing to the ground. Something was running from his eyes; wiping it with his hand, he realizes it's red liquid—it's blood.
His eyes burn more intensely than ever, and besides the nausea, now his vision is also blurred. The journey will prove challenging.
'Are you stupid? What the hell! DO. NOT. LOOK. UP! That's basic, and that's exactly what you do. Thank me for you not becoming one of them." Even though it wasn't possible, the voice sounded even more shrill than before. 'Come on, get up, we don't have time to lose.'
He didn't respond; it would be useless anyway. The Voice had always been right, and now there's no more time to waste. He needs to move forward, and it needs to be now.
Gathering all the strength he has left, he stands up. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to control the dizziness, but the blood and dirt on his hands only intensify the burning sensation.
With a few deep breaths, he begins to walk. The environment around him is apocalyptic. The TV shows and movies he watched couldn't fully convey what a city in collapse is like.
Every step forward is marked by destruction. Skyscrapers are now just heaps of concrete piled on the ground.
Giant flames spread along the entire highway, forcing a series of zigzags. However, this pales in comparison to the bodies. They are everywhere, scattered on the ground, clinging to the walls, hanging on support structures. None of them are intact; hands, feet, heads, all are scattered.
Adrenaline and shock prevent him from processing and feeling everything normally. However, there is no miracle that can erase the engraved images. It is a scene he will never forget.
The First Wave annihilated everyone. Maybe, if he hadn't gone to the... Maybe it would be better if he...
"It doesn't matter anymore. I'll head to the nearest military settlement. They must be safe, with food, water." He coughs. "A warm, comfortable bed... Yeah, a nice padded bed with-"
"Ugh."
He falls onto something soft.
"At least it wasn't on a sto-"
"OH, SHIT!" He recoils with a jolt, sitting abruptly on the ground, stunned.
In front of him, a dismembered body, with the chest completely open, allowing a glimpse of fragments of the lung and esophagus, while any other organs become unrecognizable at this distance. The opening extended to the hip, and the abdominal entrails were mostly intact and properly positioned. It seemed to have suffered some frontal impact.
"BLEURGH." He vomited.
In the silence of the night, the sound of vomiting was the only audible thing. The explosions had ceased about three minutes ago, but, focused on his own steps, he hadn't noticed.
The nausea persisted for a few seconds, but there was nothing more to be expelled. It had been a long time since his last full meal.
The reflection of the vomit subsided, allowing him to face the scene in front of him again. The body remained in the same state since the fall, and by the way it was killed, it would remain like that... forever.
Feeling somewhat more assured that he wouldn't vomit again, he looked at his hands. There was no more visible skin; they were completely covered in blood.
He rubbed his hands frantically on his clothes, trying to remove as much blood as possible. It wasn't enough to clean them completely, but at least he could see his own skin.
He tried to control his breathing and calm his heartbeat. It wasn't an easy task, but eventually, he managed to gain enough control to stand up.
The road seemed endless. To the limit of his vision, there was no sign of movement. He had been walking for a few minutes, but hadn't found any living person in the city.
"I'm not the only survivor, am I?" He questioned.
‘Of course not, a person like you wouldn't be the only one to survive.’ The voice returned abruptly, carrying a tone of mockery.
‘Guiding you through this city is exhausting me. Keep going and don't get into trouble until I can return.’
"Ok." He knew he wouldn't be heard, but still responded.
Life has never been easy, but now it's being a bitch.
----------------------------------------
Brita City - A few hours ago
"Darling, can you check if the chicken is done?" A woman with long blonde hair tied with a band asks while doing the dishes. At the same time, a middle-aged man appears through the kitchen door. He approaches her and hugs her from behind, grabbing her waist while resting his chin on her head.
"No problem, dear." He slowly steps back from her, leaving a kiss on her head. Then, he takes an oven mitt from the table and opens the oven to check the chicken.
"Looks good to me." He skewers the chicken with a toothpick.
"Put the chicken on the table; the rice is ready." She approaches, holding a pot.
The table is almost full of food. It's the first time in a long while that they've had a break from work and gathered as a family for a complete dinner.
They hear some fast steps approaching.
"I heard someone say the food is ready!" A little blonde girl comes close to the man and hugs him around the waist.
He chuckles. "Yes, it's ready, Isabella." He looks around. "Where is your sister?" He looks down and ruffles her head as she squeezes him.
"She didn't want to share the phone with me, so I locked her in the room!" She smiled as she spoke.
"Isabella!" Her mother exclaimed. "Go unlock Rebecca now, don't give me trouble today, we've been planning this family lunch for weeks, don't ruin it!"
"BUT MOM." She whined. "IT WAS REBECCA WHO STARTED IT!"
"I don't care, go up and unlock your sister." She pointed with her hand to the stairs. "And don't shout at me, I'm your mother."
Isabella wriggled out of her father's grasp and went upstairs with heavy steps.
The mother then rubs her temples. "I don't know why they can't go a day without picking a fight."
The father comes closer and holds his hands by her head.
"They are still kids, especially Isabella; it's normal for some disagreements to happen." He looked at her nostalgically. "Remember our high school days? You and your sister were always in some competition that turned into a fight." He laughed. "I remember once you were going to perform as a cheerleader, and-"
"And we've already started lunch with decades-old stories." A girl dressed in black approaches the couple.
"Good morning, Rebecca, how are you, did you sleep well? Thanks for asking!" The mother said.
Rebecca just ignored her mother and approached the food table.
"Cindy..."
"Don't worry, Max, today nothing will shake me, let's enjoy this family lunch without any fights." She went to the table.
"Isabella, sit in your chair and wait for your food." Max requested.
"Okay, Daddy." She replied cheerfully and went to her seat.
Rebecca was already in her chair when they started putting food on their plates. Not long after, everyone was served and in their seats, ready to start eating.
"It looks like it's going to rain." The youngest daughter said as she looked out the kitchen window.
The father turned to look out the window.
"Just today, if it rains, we won't be able to go to the amusement park." He lamented.
"Thank God!" Rebecca said.
"Rebecca... Don't make me put you on time-out." Cindy spoke while lowering her fork.
Rebecca just ignored her and continued eating her roasted chicken.
"B-but I wanted to go to the park..." Isabella whined.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Don't worry, I'll take you to an even better park next weekend if it rains today, okay?" Her father said, smiling.
"YES!" She got excited. "And when we get to the park, I'll-"
"Dad?" Rebecca interrupted.
"Hm?"
"The Sun is back." Rebecca pointed out the window as she stared ahead.
The father then turned again to look at the window.
"There's no sun at eight in the evening, Rebecca..."
He stopped talking.
.
.
.
"Dear?" Cindy nudged her husband's shoulder.
He turned slowly to her.
His eyes were red, without any shine, tears of blood had started to flow down his face, blood also leaked from his ears, in a few seconds she managed to observe her husband's face decomposing.
All the skin covering his body began to melt, leaving him only with his muscles exposed, but with no sign that any internal organs were in a complete state.
She watched him burn slowly under the red light of the sky.
A look of panic crossed his face; she quickly stood up from her chair and looked at her daughters.
She already knew what she would find.
Rebecca, the eldest daughter, was in a state similar to her father; her skin completely removed, her body reclined in the chair, arms thrown to the side, her state of decomposition was more advanced than that of her father.
Her limbs were coming loose and falling like mud to the floor.
Her terror levels increased, panic managed to surpass all conceivable levels, she fell to her knees on the floor with her hands on her head.
Her whole life, her whole family was wiped out in a simple snap of fingers; all that remained was her, and she knows that soon even she won't survive what is to come.
She slightly controls her breathing, her eyes moving at an abnormal speed, trying to see all the possibilities of what is happening, what is about to happen.
Everything passing through her mind in a few seconds. Infinite images and possibilities, until...
She looked at the dinner table.
Her youngest daughter was not in her chair.
She got up quickly and started looking around; it wasn't really hard to find her, she was hiding in the corner of the wall, in a fetal position, scared and afraid.
"Isabella? Are you okay? Look at mommy." She said as she approached slowly, squatting in front of her daughter and weakly putting a hand on hers.
As soon as their hands touched, both fell silent for a few seconds, until the daughter slowly lifted her head and looked forward.
There was nothing abnormal on her face, except for tear marks and her eyes red from crying, there was nothing to indicate that she was affected by whatever it was that killed her father and sister.
Cindy saw her daughter's mouth open along with a deep breath, realizing what was going to happen, she quickly covered the girl's mouth, stared into her eyes, and shook her head in denial.
"You don't need to be afraid, okay? I'm here with you; everything will be fine, I promise." She tried to calm her daughter by running her hand through her hair while keeping the other on her mouth, preventing her from screaming.
Isabella knew it was a lie; there was no way this situation would end well. Her father and siblings melted into a puddle of blood on the floor; her mother appeared to be physically fine, but even a child could tell that she was about to fall apart.
The only thing keeping her standing is her daughter.
The little girl shook her head. The best option is to trust her mother.
Her mother slowly removed her hand from her mouth while extending her arms towards her. She quickly understood what she wanted. She then wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and held on as tightly as she could.
The last thing the girl managed to see before feeling a blindfold placed over her eyes was the sad face of her mother, now with her loose hair falling in front of her chest. Cindy could only hear a small whimper from her daughter as she stood up with her in her arms. With sudden courage, she began to walk slightly towards the living room. As she walked, she turned her head slowly backward; this will be the last time she sees her home, and she knows it. She needs to find a safe place for both of them, preferably somewhere without windows; she can't risk looking up. Cindy wiped her eyes, feeling them wet. She quickly reached the back door; there is a basement in the neighboring house. If she can cross the backyard fast enough and open the gate...
Outside, she could observe the neighborhood more clearly. Chaos had already spread throughout the area, and a scene of destruction began to unfold. Cars were thrown between trees and houses; some flames started to spread across the block. It's unclear where they originated, but they were spreading rapidly.
The very few people who survived the moment the sky changed color are running in panic through the streets, in search of what? She couldn't say, but by the way they were desperate, anything would be enough for them.
The few who weren't running were kneeling in some pool of blood, surely someone dear to them, someone who was part of their lives, a spouse, a child...
A little farther from the neighboring house, she saw someone willingly look up, and the grotesque situation repeated itself. Not wanting to see that again, she turned her face to the fence; she has to hurry.
The moment she started moving, she heard some footsteps coming from inside the house. It's too late; he's here.
She gave a sad look to her daughter. She ran the backs of her hands over her eyes, wiping away some traces of tears that escaped her blindfold. It doesn't matter anymore; everything will end soon.
She took one last sniff and put Isabella on the ground. It took a few moments for her to stand firmly on her legs. Isabella clung to her mother's waist while still keeping the blindfold over her eyes.
"Don't worry, Isa, everything will end soon. I may have failed to see what was happening, but now I know what I need to do to fix this; you will live." She took the ring off her fingers and put it in her daughter's trouser pocket.
Before she could say more words, someone appeared at the exit door of the house. It was a man; from his appearance, he was around forty, wearing black boots and equally black clothes that stretched all over his body. The only noticeable thing about his appearance was a strange black line that diagonally divided his face, making his yellow eyes shine in contrast.
"Hello, Cindy, you caused a lot of trouble by disappearing without any notice." He looked around. "I didn't imagine you were a homebody; you always seemed too wild to be confined to a house." He smiled as he approached.
She began to take a few steps backward in response. But after just two steps, she began to feel her daughter squirming. This drew the man's attention to the child beside her. His smile widened even more at this sight.
"A daughter? A legitimate one, it seems this time. Not that walking aberration you called a daughter before; this one shows the characteristics of pure blood. Is she his daughter? THAT BASTARD'S?" His voice increased abruptly as his steps became wider until he reached Cindy and grabbed her by the neck.
"Tell me, WHO. IS. THE. FATHER!" He began to squeeze harder and harder. She could no longer breathe easily; her face was now purple from lack of oxygen. He heard a small noise from his side; Isabella was lying on the floor crying, probably thrown by the impact of her mother being brutally grabbed by the neck.
As quickly as he grabbed her, he released her neck. She managed to stand, but her throat now had a prominent red bruise, with small blood clot balls. He writhed quickly and returned with a neutral expression on his face.
"Alright, never mind, I have another task to accomplish here; where is he?"
She just laughed, which was quickly followed by a cough.
He sighed.
"I don't know why I thought it could be different with you."
As soon as he said that, she could feel an invisible force forcing her to her knees; she couldn't fight it anymore. She could see that her daughter was placed in the same position; however, unlike her, she still had her eyes covered. But even before being forced into this position, her daughter was no longer moving. The entire situation she was exposed to was too much to process; she's in shock, paralyzed by fear and terror.
"You know... Everything that happened here tonight is your fault, isn't it? The destruction, the deaths... Your family dying, all of it is your fault. If you didn't steal what belongs to us, none of this would have happened. There's more blood on your hands than on mine." He ran his hand along Cindy's chin, making her look directly into his eyes.
As she looked into his eyes, she saw him move away; even looking at the clouds, she didn't feel affected by what killed her husband. The real reason they died was above, right over her head.
She saw him stand behind Isabella; at no point did he look away, and now, he had his hands beside his daughter's head.
"This is your last chance, tell me where he is, and everything will stop." He squeezed his hands on her head, finally getting some reaction from the girl, who jerked and started crying again.
"It will be as if this day never happened, Cindy." Every time she felt her name leaving that man's lips, she felt more disgusted; she already knows what she has to do.
From this moment on, the actions seem to happen in slow motion; she can slowly see her daughter's blindfold being lowered. She didn't want this to happen, didn't want her to look at what was going to happen.
But what can she do? Trapped under his control, her movements were limited to mere centimeters. Even before this, she was already trapped, even before the birth of her daughter, her movements were limited; she could never do anything about it, but... but now she can, no longer needs to hide.
No longer needs to feel fear; fear is for the weak, and she is not weak; she will show them, show them all.
She began to concentrate her energy on her chest, everything that was trapped being released all at once. She could feel the tips of her fingers tingling, her mind getting heavier every moment; in a few milliseconds, she could no longer feel the ends of her limbs.
There is no turning back.
The man quickly realized what was happening, but it's also too late to react.
"You bitch!" He shouted.
She then looked at her daughter, now fully unveiled for the last time.
"I'm sorry..."
The little girl could only look powerless at her mother, feeling a slight warmth filling her chest.
And in the same moment a last tear fell from her eye, the world turned blue.
----------------------------------------
He continued his walk through the city. It was incredible how everything could disappear in the blink of an eye. Brita was one of the main cities in his country, with over fifteen million residents and millions of tourists arriving every month. With an absurd influx of money passing through every day, high-caliber security was expected, including trained professionals to maintain street safety, free of more basic problems.
But there were also others, the self-proclaimed heroes of the nation, people with special abilities who could do what no one else could. There were those with superhuman strength or some kind of telepathic ability—whatever it was, they weren't individuals that ordinary people came into contact with easily.
To have a single conversation with one in a lifetime was something to be proud of. Even in Brita, with all its fifteen million inhabitants, there were only ninety of them, equivalent to 0.0006% of the population.
This is a ridiculously small number, but when scaled up, it would still be many in comparison to the world population of around six billion people—thirty-six thousand individuals, to be precise.
Yet, even this absurd quantity makes them celebrities among men in general. They are untouchable by ordinary people; few maintain open contact with the public, but they are not notorious enough to be widely mentioned.
However, continuing in Brita, they all evaporated from the surface.
In a simple second, like a cheap magic trick.
It's uncertain whether what hit Brita is just a local or global calamity. Only five minutes after it began, there was no longer any means of long-distance communication, whether by phone or reported on a television channel.
No sign was left behind, no message, or anything of the sort. Six hours before the first wave, they disappeared. All television channels reported the disappearances; thousands of theories emerged every second. Forums were filled with conspiracy theories, and the most paranoid warned everyone of the end of times.
No one knew for sure what was about to happen. Should they? Or rather, was there any way for them to find out?
No matter; what happened cannot be changed.
In just an instant, a large red eye appeared above their heads, and from that, chaos and destruction began.
'There's someone nearby.' The voice spoke again.
The boy started to look around. His vision might not be the best, but it was what he could trust at the moment.
'Don't waste our time, hide, quickly.'
He began to quicken his steps, limping heavily, but still managing to walk in a consistent manner.
The surrounding landscape is not the most promising to hide in; besides debris scattered all over the road, the buildings still standing don't seem strong enough to withstand more than a few hours.
Fortunately, he found something. Surrounded by what were once two multi-story shops, there was a small diner. The façade was split in half, but it was still possible to decipher what was written.
"Whatever, this is probably the best possible place I could find around here." He directed his steps toward the diner.
The feeling that someone was nearby continued to hit him, the pressure of feeling watched, the sensation that he was just prey walking into a trap.
This made him stop quickly on his way. The diner is a good place, maybe even too good to be true. What are the chances of finding a place in a ruined city that contains water, food, maybe some new clothes in a pantry, and is safe enough to recover from his injuries?
Whatever it is, it's happening, and there's no correct choice in this position. Stay and wait to be killed by whatever is chasing him, or risk it in a suspicious place where he can recover.
Based on previous situations, if he finds enough food in the diner, he can recover in a few minutes, but he would still be exhausted from the walk, which would take at least four hours until he feels completely recovered.
"Screw it, I'm going in." He resumed his walk.
Putting his hands on the door frame for support, he finally managed to get a better look inside.
"It's incredibly intact in here. The destroyed façade must have prevented any survivors from invading the place." He murmured.
The diner looks like a dream, of course, there's a lot of dust scattered all over the furniture, several utensils and ceramics are thrown on the floor, and the drink machines aren't in a better state. At least with the broken glass, it will be possible to get some drink tonight.
Advancing inside, he sat in a chair. For the first time since he began his escape through the city, he had some time to rest safely.
"And the explosions? Won't they catch up to us if we stay still for too long?" he said, leaning back in the chair, feeling his back crack with the movement.
'Stay quiet, have you forgotten why we came here?' The voice responded.
He ran his hand through his hair. His condition was deplorable. Realizing that this could be his only chance in days to clean himself before finding somewhere with running water, he moved toward the counter, searching for a faucet.
A few moments later, he found one, just behind a stack of dishes, a bit dusty, nothing too severe—better than he expected, actually.
Putting his hands under the stream of water that emerged after a moment, he felt immediate relief. The water ran red towards the sink drain, and soon he began to run his hands over his arms, removing any dirt present.
The feeling of finally having a part of his body clean is indescribable. It's like someone was grabbing him all the time, something unpleasant that kept him trapped within himself, but now he was finally free.
Finishing cleaning his face, he closed the faucet. He didn't want to use all the available water. It's surprising enough that there is still water in this cafeteria with all the disaster happening outside. He won't use it all at once.
Checking around for a pantry door, he quickly found one. Opening it, he discovered some cabinets and cleaning equipment. He continued checking if he could find anything useful, and he did.
It might not be exactly what he was looking for, even though he doesn't know what he's looking for, but still, they are a pleasant improvement to his current situation.
Some employee left civilian clothes stored in the cabinet, probably to change into the uniform. Either way, it doesn't matter.
"They're mine now," A small smile appeared.
But he's still dirty. Changing clothes won't be enough in the long run; he needs to clean himself, or they will become useless quickly.
Returning with them in hand to the reception, he began to think of a way to clean himself completely. It's unlikely there's a shower in the bathroom, even more unlikely that it's working with hot water.
It would be too good to be true. He'll settle for what he has in his hands now.
He goes to the other door, the one that leads to the kitchen, and starts rummaging through the cabinets for some pot or basin that can hold a relevant amount of water.
Eventually, he finds what he's looking for—a large trash can. It's not the dream basin, but it's still useful. He removes the garbage bag from inside, ties it, and puts it in a corner.
A few minutes later, he has his bath ready in the diner's bathroom. The trash can is almost completely filled with water; he has a liquid soap that was in the bathroom, a new change of clothes, and himself to clean up.
Even after all this time, he hasn't heard any attempts from someone approaching or any sign that the explosions have returned. So now is the perfect time to relax.