I don't know when it happened. But, somehow, I know it. I'm dead.

As if I were a separate entity, I look at my mangled form.

Vague aches and soreness penetrate my bones—the relics of my violent end.

My chest heaves with air coming and going.

My eyes manifest tears of regret and fear.

I shouldn't have died like this. There was so much that I wanted to experience.

Lily will soon learn of my death. And, inevitably, she will move on.

But what about me? What about me?

This world around me is dark, and I can't help but feel lost at sea.

I can't hold my footing under my duress and fall to my knees before my body.

Hesitantly, I reach out to my bloody form.

The tips of my fingers meet my corpse.

Gently, I wipe at the blood that smears my mouth—dirtying my hands.

The memory of my final moments drives up within me something other than fear and sadness.

"Assholes," I spit vainly.

If they had called 911, then I could have survived.

Now, with anger in my heart, I feel somewhat stronger.

I try not to think about my bloody body and stand to survey my surroundings.

The streets look much the way they had while I was alive. Buildings neatly lined up beside the road.

The thing that strikes me is how dilapidated the structures are. As if left abandoned for centuries.

Above my head, I see no sun or moon. The sky is a vortex of greys, blacks, and reds.

The ground at my feet swarms with shadows threatening to suck me into some dark abyss.

"Hello!" I scream into the wind. "Is anyone out there?!"

The tears return as I feel abandoned and desolate.

Is this hell? I find myself wondering.

As if waiting for my question, the shadows tremble.

A low growl emerges from behind me.

My heart leaps as I turn to face the sound.

Glowing red eyes watch me from the blackness.

First one set. Then another. A dozen in total, smolder from the darkness.

Instinctively, I back away.

My eyes advance until I recognize dogs with pitch-black fur.

All I can do is back away.

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As I stumble my way, one of the dogs rushes forward and bites into my corpse.

Soon, all the beasts are upon my remains.

Unwittingly, a dry laugh escapes my throat.

What the hell is this?

I watch as my flesh is ripped and torn before being wolfed down.

Bones break. And my mangled form is rendered unrecognizable.

Soon, their smoldering eyes turn up from their meal and look at me with renewed interest.

Recognizing the danger, I turn and run.

What I hear behind me is a powerful howl that instills in me terror.

I have to get away.

But then, where should I go to escape these monsters?

I look at the buildings all around me. Seemingly, derelicts in terrible condition.

Home—my apartment. I need to get there to find shelter.

The sounds of whispers and sobbing can be heard in the periphery of my mind.

I'm breathing heavily as I run. But, I dare not slow my pace.

The buildings are familiar. And I know which one's are mine.

As expected, my home is a mess of a building.

At my door, I find it locked.

I fish through my pockets until I find my key.

I'm at a loss for the rules of death. But this, at least, carried over with me.

Behind a barrier, I breathe deeply.

After collecting myself, I scan my room.

In it, I find rotted cloth and decayed wood.

The bed is a mess of springs and stained cushioning.

By the bed, I see something that relieves some of my nerves—an aluminum bat.

I'm not a baseball fan. But I appreciate the need for home defense. And now, with demon dogs patrolling the streets, I have never appreciated it more.

With my back to the wall, I settle down with bat in hand.

I'm in hell.

I didn't think I was a bad person. But, now...

The sounds beyond my bedroom stir a panic whenever I hear them.

It takes some time for my nerves to settle sufficiently for me to fall asleep. But, a deathly sleep takes me.

The dreams that I experience are bizarre.

There is a maze that I have to escape. If I rest too long, it comes. A beast behind me that I can never see. But, still must run from.

And, I see a fire. A pillar of light ascending beyond the cancerous sky.

My stomach summons my consciousness.

I feel a great hunger and thirst. Like I've never experienced before.

My hand still wrapped around the handle of my bat, I stand up.

As my stomach growls, I wonder why one should need to eat when they're already dead.

The faucets are barren when I test them.

Fear and trepidation hinder my resolve to fill my stomach. But, eventually, I worked up the nerve to open my door.

Free of my safe space, I hear whispers and cries as though I had entered a graveyard where all the ghosts had risen.

The solid sensation of the bat in my hand keeps my will strong.

Walking the streets, I am conscious of the shadows surrounding me.

It is as though each of them has a personality all their own. But then, maybe I'm just trying to rationalize an irrational situation.

Whatever the laws of the land, my belly leads me to the local grocery store.

What I find is a broken glass door. And, as I enter the store, my hopes are lost.

The shelves have been ransacked as if a thousand people had rolled through.

Despondently, I search empty shelf after empty shelf.

As if hearing of my plight, the universe grants me some fortune. A single bottle of water rests in a mini-fridge.

My strong thirst has me running to claim the bottle. As though someone else would take it were I too slow.

Like a man in a desert, I drink the little bottle dry.

My thirst wanes for a moment. And my thoughts are more collected.

The drop of water was good. But I'll need a source of fresh water.

On my way out of the store, I notice several lighters that hadn't been looted.

A few are pocketed, and I depart.

The river is a couple of miles away. I don't know what I could face on the journey. But, I feel resolute.

Despite my fears, I make good progress.

Along the way, I hear a beating of wings overhead. But, when I look, I see nothing.

There is so much that I don't know. But I know my appetite.

I carry on.

At the river, I bend down to drink like an animal.

Freshwater, purer than an industrial city should possess, refreshes my mind.

Only after quenching my thirst do I notice something.

Across the river, a woman is staring at me.

"Hey!" I cry out in excitement.

The woman disinterestedly turns and moves to leave.

"Wait!" I cry out as I move to jump into the flowing water.

As I cry out again, I realize something.

I can't pass over the water.

Every time I move my body to cross, I stop myself from moving.

It isn't that I'm repelled by the water. It's just that my will doesn't have it in me to cross over the flowing water. As if to do so would mean destruction.

A fear I can't comprehend stirs in me.

Drinking is fine. But that's it.

Tears of frustration well up from within me as I watch the unconcerned woman leave.

I sag in my spot and wipe the tears from my eyes.

As I do this, I hear a growl that is soon joined by others.

My hand on my bat is like a rock as I turn to face the enemies.