“The hell? That’s just…” He did not know what to call that, but it wasn’t right. What the hell was going on today?
It did not matter, he did not have time to waste on idle thoughts. He needed to do something, or he would die just like the poor fat bastard. Scott glanced at the road beyond the convenience store. He could see the remnants of the battle before.
He looked at the leftover parts of the fatty then made a face. It was not because he disliked fat people. He could use a bit more exercise himself, if he was honest about it. No, he made a face because the uneaten remnants of the dead man chose that moment to struggle to its feet. It was not long before all four of the ghouls began to move toward his location at a steady jogging pace.
“Shit! Gotta go.” He turned and ran to the other side of the hill. Just beyond the hill was a short gap with a bridge, and then a continuous hilly area where various well-off people lived. There was a house on the far side of the hill in the distance, and he figured it would be a good place to find help for now.
However, it was not long before he felt exhaustion setting in once more. Scott was forced to stop and take a moment to rest. He panted hard, even felt like vomiting a little. "Damn, I know I'm out of shape, but this is ridiculous!" He knew that he could run farther and faster than he did, but for some reason it was like he had been rendered feeble since the weird shit had begun.
Scott began a short series of hard walks and occasional rests. He soon found that if he just walked at a normal pace, he would be able to travel a little farther before he needed to rest. Running, however, tired him out at a blisteringly fast pace.
As soon as he got within three-rounds of walking distance from the house, a window on the second floor shattered loudly. Someone fell out and dropped heavily to the ground. Scott kept moving forward, whoever that was either needed help, or he needed to get past them.
Before he took more than five steps, a new horror appeared before him. From out of that same second floor window a true monster emerged. It looked to be about the size of a basketball, and it had several tentacles. It floated in the air, suspended by some unknown mechanism.
Scott stopped cold for a moment. Shark-toothed hotdog vendors were one thing. This creature was flat out impossible.
He saw the person on the ground struggle to get up, but they could not. They cried out incoherently, and the eyeball took notice. It sluggishly floated down toward the person crying on the ground then casually began to wrap its tentacles around them. The eyeball rolled back to reveal a massive mouth with large triangular teeth.
Scott gasped in horror then took a step to the right. He turned away from the grisly sight of a flying eyeball eating someone as they cried and moaned. He could not know if they were normal like him, or if they were like Gladys. It did not matter. He did not want to see that, and he had no intention of going to that house now.
He continued off to the right and did not look back. However, he could hear the loud crunching of bones and the feeble screams of the dying. Thankfully, the eyeball either did not see well, or he had been ignored in favor of the closer meal.
Panicked and out of breath, Scott slid down the side of the hill then headed toward the river. If he was lucky he could get to the bridge and cross over to the other side. He was not that far from home, only a few miles. Though, that seemed like a much greater distance than normal.
After sliding down the hill, he reached the river bank and started forward at a steady jog. Soon, he stopped for a rest. Scott inwardly cursed his body and whatever bizarre thing it was that caused him to become out of breath after only a short few steps when jogging.
He had never been the athletic type. He was not in horrible shape, but he never really focused on body maintenance. Since the world went mad, he had done the most running that he had done since high school. He expected to tire easy, but the situation still made no sense. Yesterday he walked around the local mall for hours and never had this problem. Now it was like he had become an elderly man with late-stage emphysema.
The water in his shoes, a left over from the rain storm, had already started to rub his feet raw. His body was chaffing in various locations, and he was filthy from the climb up the hill. Yet, he struggled on despite the growing irritations.
Up ahead the bridge came into sight. It was not too far away, though there seemed to have been some sort of accident. There were cars everywhere, but none of them were moving. In fact, no one was even honking their horns or shouting about the injustice of their inconvenient wait.
How had all of this happened so suddenly? He wished that he knew. After leaving school he wandered over to the park. No one there had seemed to be having problems. Had everything started from this side of town, or was something else at work? How long ago did everything start? It could not have been long ago, otherwise he would never have gotten his scooter to the store. Yet, where were all the people?
Many thoughts invaded his mind while he walked slowly along the river bank. Did it all happen at once? Did the effects of his asthmatic power-walk not kick in until the first blue light show? Were all the vehicles dead just like his scooter? The last thought would explain a lot, but it did not explain where all the people went.
He whispered softly to himself, "If my scooter died when this all started then it was a couple of hours ago? How am I alive? Why wasn't I attacked until the store?"
Thoughts of the poor fat bastard surfaced. He ran from those ghouls. There was no way that a man that fat jogged regularly, yet he ran from the ghouls. The fact that the corpulent walking corpse ran far longer at the time than Scott could run at the moment also lent credence to the first blue-light show theory. Until he was caught up in that weird mess, he moved normally.
Suddenly, a gurgling cry echoed outward from the water. Scott turned his head, and then wished that he had not. From out of the river crawled what could only be the love child of a crocodile and a professional wrestler. It was some sort of lizard man. Green-scaled, naked, and obviously hungry, it quickly fixed its eyes on Scott's location.
“Meat!” cried the hideous beast before rapidly moving toward him on all fours.
“Shit!” shrieked Scott before he started to haul asthmatic ass toward the bridge. He was already tired, but somehow he forget that fact as he desperately sped his way toward his chance at salvation. Of course, the primal part of his brain that responded to the sight of a bipedal crocodile man was also the part that forgot that he could not simply run as he pleased. Scott gave out of breath quickly and soon all he could do was stagger forward. He nearly collapsed to the ground completely, but somehow managed to stay on his feet.
If he could get home, he could take a moment to think. That’s what he hoped anyway. Home was familiar. Home had food, clean clothes, and an assortment of things he might conceivably turn into weapons if need be. Out here there was nothing but shark-toothed assholes, flying eyeballs, and lizard people.
Behind him the lizard man rose up on his hind legs. He hissed loudly and a set of frills opened wide on each side of his head. He began to chase after Scott on two legs, and somehow moved faster than he did when he was crawling on four.
Somehow, despite the exhaustion, Scott reached the stairway that led up to the bridge above. He took two steps upward then his eyes widened in fear as a yellow light flared outward to encompass him.
Several of the shark-toothed assholes staggered around the corner at the top. Scott stepped down and ended his turn. Once more he was caught up in a bizarre stop-motion existence. A dozen more of the monsters seemed to appear out of nowhere as the closest stepped toward the corner of the bridge. None of them looked at him directly.
He knew immediately that the bridge was out of the question as an escape route. The loud moans and groans of the ghouls rose to a fevered pitch as dozens, and then what sounded like hundreds of voices began to cry out. He kept stepping away from them as fast as he could whenever his turn came up. His only hope was to escape through the shadows under the bridge by u
sing his slight lead.
Lizard guy was not to be denied, however. He screamed out what sounded like a cross between a hiss and the word “Meat!” The shark-toothed assholes did not fully notice Scott before, even though he did not know it. He merely triggered their hunting senses due to the potential presence of dinner. The lizard man was a different story. They clearly heard its cry.
“Meat!” snarled several of the vicious looking former people. They stumbled down the stairway as fast as they could, one turn at the time. By then Scott had already managed to make it out of their line-of-sight.
Scott walked away as quietly as he could during his step-by-step escape. Soon, his sides began to burn and he was soon forced to stop for a short rest. Had he looked back, however, he would have seen a curious sight. The shark-toothed people and the lizardman began to fight each other. Each of them cried out for meat, and a bloody war ensued between them.
The lizardman was much stronger and faster than the half-speed former humans, but what they lacked in speed they made up for in numbers. The ghouls and the lizard soon met in battle. The moment their movements crossed paths a terrible fight began. The lizard's claws swept out with incredible force and easily disemboweled the closest ghoul, just before he swept his body around and perform a brutal tail sweep that broke the legs of his prey and sent it falling to the ground in a heap.
The battle continued on as Scott slowly fled the scene one step at the time, the epic background music blaring all the while. Eventually, after eight of the shark-toothed monstrosities were slain, the lizardman was forced to retreat back toward the water. Its body bore many terrible wounds, but it survived and took the corpse of one of its opponents as a snack for later.
Scott broke free of the yellow light surrounding the area and continued forward at his normal sluggish pace. He left the bridge area behind and continued on in the relative seclusion of the fenced in walkway beyond. Unseen by what he thought were his pursuers, he did his best to move away as quickly as he could. The better part of half an hour passed as he walked along the secluded path, his eyes wary for the would-be signs of monsters. Once again, he was forced to rest for a moment after he reached a small cul-de-sac.
“Hey,” softly called out a voice from nearby. Scott stumbled a little and turned toward the sound, ready to make a run for it, or at least what he would consider to be a run.
“Don’t stand there. Come on!” exclaimed the voice with a little more excitement. It belonged to an older man who stood on the other side of a flimsy wooden gate. He wore thick clothes, despite the heat, and had what appeared to be a full backpack on his back.
Scott hoped that the old man would not turn out to be some psychotic monster. He had no choice but to go with him at this point. He was only a few miles from the convenience store, but he felt like he had run a marathon.
Through the gate and down a short foot path, they came to a small brick house. Both of them were forced to stop and take a moment to rest as they moved. It was then that Scott realized that he was not the only one who had been afflicted with the need to move in short walking bursts. “This way, we need to get inside,” said the old man after their rest break.
Scott did not argue, and soon they were in the door and out of the immediate line of sight of any wondering monsters. Once the old man locked the door, he moved to a nearby coffee table and sat his pack down.
The old guy turned to Scott. “Glad to see someone else who made it.”
“Made it? What the hell is going on? What is all this?” asked Scott.
“No idea. About two and a half, maybe three hours ago the whole world went crazy. Mutant freaks started to pop up out of nowhere. They attacked people, killed 'em.”
Scott found it hard to believe that everything had started only that long ago. “How is it so widespread? I didn’t even know about this till a few minutes ago.”
“They popped up all over the place. That’s all I know. Those shark-toothed things attacked whoever was closest and if they killed them, they came back as one of them.”
“Shit!” Scott reached up and grabbed a hunk of his hair and pulled it in frustration. How had everything gone to hell so quickly? What was happening?
“Yeah, it’s a hell of a thing. You’re the first person I’ve seen alive since I left the grocery store,” said the old man.
Scott shook his head. “Same here. My scooter died on me up the road from the gas station just before the bottom fell out.”
“Got caught in the rain, too? I waited it out at the tackle shop down river a bit.”
“Be careful near the river. There’s some kind of crocodile guy in there that makes the people with the shark-teeth look pathetic.”
“Damn,” muttered the old man. He had not seen that, but he did not doubt it either. There were plenty of bizarre things happening today.
“I don’t think the city is a good place to be right now.” said Scott.
“Yeah, my thoughts too. I was planning to get my raft and head down river, but if there’s something in the water…”
“You’re going to want a bigger boat than a raft,” said Scott.
The old man sighed. “Can’t leave without my family anyway.”
“You have family around here? How far away?” Nothing was close by right now, but the longer the old man waited, the harder it might be to find his people.
“My niece lives in a house nearby,” said the old man.
“It’s… It’s not on the big hill near the convenience store is it?” asked Scott.
“No, why?”
“Good. That place, I doubt there’s anyone alive there. I had to run up that hill to get away from a pack of those shark-toothed people. Someone fell out of the second floor window of that house when I got close, and a damned flying eyeball with tentacles came out behind them.”
The old man sighed. “That house, was it a log cabin style with a red roof?”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” said Scott.
Aged shoulders slumped down a bit as the realization hit the old man. “Damn, a friend of mine lived there.”
“I’m sorry. Even if I could have done anything, they were too far away to get to in time,” said Scott. He frowned. "Especially now... Have you been having trouble moving around?"
“Yes. Everyone has who I've managed to meet. We all seemed to move fine till that blue light bullshit started. Anyone caught in it changed. Everyone else just kept on as normal."
"Shit. Wish I'd known that... Maybe I could have helped a few people I saw." Scott related what he had seen happen to the fat guy and the person who fell from the second floor window.
"I don’t blame you. This, no one’s ready for something like this. Just managing to live this long is something.” The old guy sighed then looked up at Scott. “You got any family round here?”
“No. No one. My grandma mostly raised me, and she passed on a few years ago. Haven’t heard from either of my parents since I was a kid,” said Scott.
“Sorry,” said the old man.
“Don’t be. I’m not. I loved my grandma. I don’t even know my parents. From what little I remember, I don’t think I missed out on anything.” Where his parents were concerned Scott mostly remembered being hungry a lot. Occasionally memories would surface regarding being locked out of the house and how he was forced to sleep on the porch because his parents had friends over. His grandma always fed him, and he never once slept outside when he lived with her.
“Well, alright. What are you gonna do now?” asked the old-timer.
Scott shook his head. “My only plan was to try to get home and get some supplies, maybe scrounge up a weapon. After that, I have no idea.”
“Weapons don’t do much good. Those damned monsters out there? Those things heal from anything. I saw a cop blast one of those things in the face with a shotgun when this first started. Wasn't that rubber bullet trash either. It was a slug," said the old man.
He reached out and grabbed Scott's wrist and steading himself while
looking the younger man in the eye. "That slug nearly blew its head clean off. There was this big damn hole right through the things’ skull. You could see through it. A few of us gathered round afterward, and one of us paid for it.”
“What happened?” asked Scott. He recalled how Gladys’ arm seemed to fix itself. He could guess where this story was going, but he hoped to hear something a little different from his suspicion.
“The things’ head started shimmering, you know like light on the river? Then it was perfectly fine! Damned thing snapped its eyes open and leapt up at one of the people who crowded round to get a better look. Not long after, everything went to shit. I hauled ass back here as fast as this tired old body would go, and brought whatever I could find.”
“Fuck. Something like that happened at the store. One of those things broke its arm when it fell down the hill. A few seconds later it shimmered and was fine.” said Scott.
“Yeah, so you know,” said the old man with a nod of his head.
Scott nodded as well. “I thought I was seeing things.”
The old guy shook his head. “No. You can’t fight those things, or at least you can’t kill them. You can slow ‘em down, but you have to keep moving or they’ll just take you down.”
They were quiet for a moment, and then the old man opened his pack. Inside was a small assortment of items, a first aid kit, bottles of water, and some canned food. “Not much, but it’s everything I could snatch up. There isn’t much at the house here, either.”
“We can’t stay here long. This place is crawling with all kinds of things,” said Scott.
“Want to try and help me get my family?" asked the man, hopefully. "My son-in-law is on tour in Afghanistan, but my daughter and her little boy are by themselves.”
“Sure. You already helped me, and I've got nothing else going on until I can get across the river,” said Scott. “Name’s Scott by the way.”
Earth Tactics Advance: Volume 1 Page 2