You never see it coming. The far off sounds of guns. Sometimes, the sound of a spade hitting concrete or the thud of a baseball bat against their soft heads. The screams of everyone you love. Except they're not them anymore. They're something different, something mutant and wrong. They're not quite human.
They walk around, mostly crawl though. Maintaining balance must be a difficult thing in a mental state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. A state in which all you think about is nothing, all you feel is a lust, a craving for flesh, blood, entrails of what once was a stranger, a neighbour, an acquaintance, a friend, a partner, daughter, son, husband, wife. Whatever the social status may be, these creatures only want
one thing.
Something to feast on.
Two years, a friend and three other survivors is what it took us to get to where we are now. Sat around a radio, the first radio we've found since the world really went to shit. It works, but living in such a digital age hasn't taught any of us much about older contraptions, such as the one we're currently tampering with.
A voice. Unfamiliar to any of us. Coming from the radio. A name. A place. A time. We've found our saviour.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.