“All that any of us can do now is just flail about long enough until we all die ourselves. But you… You’re past that. You’ve cheated that end point. And as one of the last survivors of our race, one human to another,” Worm had never been as kind to Polaris as he was in his final moments.
“One human to another… It’s my duty to stop you from breaking the system of life and death.”
He rose back up onto his feet, as Polaris stretched his arms out of their joints, desperate to bite into Worm.
Worm slipped out his handgun from his side, and slowly raised it, aiming down the sight at Polaris.
“Good luck out there…”
NOW
Worm was all alone. He sat at the foot of a soldier’s memorial, in a village as old as time itself presumably. He was cleaning his handgun with a cloth; the only firearm which he had seen for years at this point.
“You know, some things just aren’t right.” He declared. “That’s just a fact. I mean, sure, morality can be a pretty subjective thing, but there are some things which are just wrong, and no questions asked.”
He finished cleaning his weapon, and slid it back into his holster, before raising himself up from the foot of the memorial. He turned around and faced it.
“Forgetting those who died for us, for example,” he took time to read and acknowledge every single name engraved on the metal plaque. “All of you poor souls. How very valiant you all must have been, to go out into battle, only to not come back – And what was it all for?” He tutted, feeling genuine sorrow for the names he was reading.
“Just take a look at what the world came to – the same world which you all died to try and make better.” He threw his arms up and twirled around. “Shh! Listen, just listen… Can you hear that?” He put his finger up to his earlobe to gesture ‘listen’ as a verb.
“That’s right! Neither can I! Because there’s nothing to hear… Everything you lot died for died right alongside you in the end. How ironic!” It appeared that loneliness had driven him to madness.
“Look at what happened after death as well – Radiation? Well, whoever would’ve guessed a nuclear explosion, resulting in the mutation of animals across the countryside of England, would then lead to humans becoming basically fucking zombies?” He shouted in surprise and dismay.
“Oh, but it gets even better! Looks like all the radiation zombies have died out at this point! Now life is just purposeless survival… I mean, I’d finish myself here and now, but…” He pulled his gun out again and stuck it to the side of his head. He squeezed the trigger thrice, but it clicked all three times. “No ammo! Ha!”
Worm tossed the gun away from him this time. Then, he dropped to his knees in front of the memorial, completely fed up with his quality of life.
“Just… What’s the point?” He looked up into the clear blue sky, squinting instinctively as he stared directly into the afternoon sun.
“Get out of here!” A man shouted from behind, as he came running up the village road leading to the memorial.
“Huh?” Worm said curiously, before getting back onto his feet and turning around.
“Yes, you!” The man was running at full speed, in nothing but jeans and a scruffy red t-shirt. “Get off the streets now! They’re coming!”
Worm was at a complete loss, “What? Who? Who’s coming?”
But the man didn’t answer. Instead, he made a sharp turn right, and sprinted towards the house to the right of the memorial square. He kicked the wooden door in, before slamming it shut behind him.
“Wh-what?” Worm was taken aback; the first human interaction he had had in months, and it was quite possibly a lunatic.
However, he quickly realised that perhaps he should have heaved the man’s warning after all; a shotgun fired out, echoing off into the distance like a roar of thunder.
“Crap.” Worm mumbled to himself, before sprinting over to the same house which the man had just entered.
As he ran through the doorway, he entered into an Edwardian-style kitchen.
“Hello?” He called out.
Almost instantly, the man kicked the door shut and tackled Worm to the ground.
“Stay down, and stay silent, or I’ll kill you myself, ok?” The man warned him.
Worm nodded in desperation for his life; this human interaction had very suddenly changed him back into a normal person.
The man got up off Worm, and ducked down in front of the window, peeping over the sill.
Worm continued to remain flat on the ground.
From up the same street which the man had ran, a group stepped out into the memorial square; a woman and two men dressed in blue velvet tuxedos and trousers spread out into the square. The three of them each held a shotgun, though the exact model differed between them individually.
They were followed up by the rest of their group; more than a dozen people – children and adults, men and women, old and young alike – dressed in rags with greasy hair and dirty feet fanned out through the square as well. Some of them had wooden spears that appeared to have been whittled out of branches, while others had knives, cricket bats, and one even had a large sledgehammer.
The man dropped to the floor and crawled over to Worm. “Follow me, and be as quiet as you can,” he whispered directly into his ear. Then, the man crawled towards the wooden stairs, and slowly dragged himself up them one step at a time; Worm followed behind him.
As the man approached the middle stair, it creaked, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Worm closed his eyes tightly, praying that the sound hadn’t travelled beyond the door.
When nothing had occurred after several seconds, the man proceeded to drag himself up the stairs, while Worm remained stationary on the stair just before the one which creaked.
The man didn’t wait around for him, and instead continued to sneak off elsewhere on the upper floor.
Hesitantly, Worm dragged himself over the creaky stair; and again, the sound appeared to have gone undetected.
Worm moved up into a crouching stance at the top of the staircase, and headed into the front room, which was the bathroom, and joined the man at the window, as they peaked out from the ledge.
Upon noticing all the children amongst the ranks of adults, Worm leant into the man’s ear and asked, “Who are they?”
The man slowly turned to face him, and raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for Worm to be quiet.
So, they continued to watch the group pass by in silence…
…Or so they thought. Less than a minute later, Worm watched as a second group of scavengers entered the memorial square. However, his eye was caught by the woman in the front row of this wave. It took a moment or two for it to dawn him, and then it did: This woman was Naomi.
Without any words, Worm shook his head in sheer disbelief. He backed away from the window and slumped back against the bathtub.
A million thoughts were racing through his mind, but there was one memory which distinctively held dominance over the rest…
THEN
Worm slipped out his handgun from his side, and slowly raised it, aiming down the sight at Polaris.
“Good luck out there…”
His hand became jittery, as he hesitated to squeeze the trigger; he was looking straight into Polaris’ eyes - Even though he was snarling at him like a rabbid animal, he was still a human being.
“Like I said,” Worm lowered his weapon, “I’m sorry.” He put it to his side, after apologising to Polaris for leaving him to ‘decompose’.
“I’ll find Naomi, out of the little respect I have for you.” He nodded down to Polaris, who was still biting away in his direction.
Worm tutted, “Later.” With this final word, he ventured away from the house, and off into the distance…
NOW
Worm had been unable to maintain that final promise. Until now, he hadn’t come across Naomi, nor any of his group, again. In addition to that, he knew Naomi would likely kill him if she knew Worm had left Polaris to r
ot.
“They’re gone.” The man revealed.
Worm was still in a trance of disbelief over Naomi, however.
“What’s the matter?” The man asked out of respect.
“Who are they?” Worm suddenly looked up at him. “Those people, what the hell’s going on here?”
The man sighed and nodded, realising that Worm had not yet encountered this group. “They’re savages… They’ve adapted to this world in a rather ‘unique’ way. Rather than maintaining their rationality like you and I, they’ve decided embrace a more ‘animalistic’ nature.” The man explained.
“Right…” Worm responded politely, not fully understanding what the man was telling him.
“I’m Kieran,” the man introduced himself.
Worm bowed his head as a greeting, “They called me Worm.”
Worm and Kieran stayed the night in that cottage house. When morning came, both were still sleeping in. It wasn’t until the sun had once again hit its’ afternoon phase that Worm was finally up.
He headed downstairs and stretched his muscles with a big yawn; human interaction had allowed him to finally have a good night of sleep.
He moved over to the front window and drew the curtains open.
However, he quickly realised that this was a grave mistake; one of the children from the scavenger group was hovering around the memorial, tightly gripping a knife which was blood-stained.
“Shit!” Worm exclaimed, as he drew the curtain shut again; but the young boy turned his head and noticed him just before the curtain was drawn shut again.
Then, the boy let out an ear-piercing cry; it was creepy, almost like a war cry coming from a child.
Worm’s heart began to race, as he darted over to the kitchen worktop and grabbed a breadknife. He ran over to the bottom of the staircase, in preparation to defend the front door.
“Do not tell me that was what I think it was?” Kieran shouted out from upstairs, as he stood at the top of the staircase with his arms folded.
Cautiously, Worm nodded.
“Jesus Christ!” Kieran grunted, as he ran back towards his room.
Then, there was a thump at the door, followed by another, and then another; someone was barging into it.
Worm held the knife out in front of him; his combat skills were rusty, as he hadn’t needed to fight anyone for a long time at this point.
Then the door finally gave way and swung upon. Much to Worm’s surprise, a grown man stepped through the doorway.
“Oh no!” Expecting the intruder to be the child, Worm immediately scuttled back up the stairs.
The savage groaned and lumbered towards the stairs in pursuit.
“Big guy coming up the stairs!” Worm rushed into Kieran’s room, and slammed the door shut behind him. He watched as Kieran constructed a rifle using parts from a padded briefcase. “Whoa,” he commented.
Kieran loaded the clip into the weapon, and screwed on a suppressor, then aimed down the sight towards the door. “Keep back,” he advised Worm.
The savage banged against the bedroom door.
With the rifle in semi-automatic mode, Kieran squeezed the trigger twice, and heard the monstrous man groan from the other side of the door.
“Is he dead?” Worm asked.
“Wait…” Kieran, having experience with this group, suggested for them to hold their ground.
The two bullet holes in the door weren’t big enough to see through.
“Will you kill the kid if it comes to it?” Worm asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Kieran?” Worm reiterated.
“Our lives are on the line, and you wanna get into the morality of this situation?” Kieran criticised Worm’s input to the scenario.
“What? No. I just want to know if you’re willing to go that far!” Worm explained.
“Yes, yes I am. To save my ass, I am. I think anyone would… Besides, they aren’t kids. Not anymore. No, they’re just as savage as the adults.” Kieran defended his amoral stance.
And then, just as Worm had asked, the young boy started banging against the door; because of how light the thumps were, it made it obvious this savage was just a child. Additionally, there was human growling audible through the bullet holes, sounding identical to a child pretending to be a ferocious canine.
Realising it was the child, Worm looked down at Kieran, as he prepared to pull the trigger on the young boy; but there was something inside of both the men which said ‘You know this is wrong…’
Chapter 6: Community
Erica guided Elliot outside of the house, followed by Annabelle and Tina behind them.
They all went down the hill and stepped out into the road.
Despite his blindness, Elliot could still sense a large presence around him, but didn’t make a guess, out of gratitude for Erica organising whatever was about to happen.
“Happy birthday Elliot!” Everybody said unanimously; the entire group living in the town had all gathered on the road and were now stood either side of Elliot. There were between thirty to forty residents.
Elliot was perplexed – the concept of ‘dates’ hadn’t existed for years now, so how could anyone be sure it was his birthday?
“I… I don’t understand?” Elliot announced.
“Well, we know it’s not actually your birthday,” Erica explained, “I mean, maybe it is… But the point is, we wanted to do something to celebrate you! Besides, you’ve probably missed about four of five birthdays over the years. But hey-ho, Elliot, happy birthday, and thank you for everything, on behalf of all of us.” She patted him on the back.
“Elliot my dear,” Dawn pinched his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead, “It seems like it was just yesterday you arrived at the old camp… Now look at you, you’ve brought us all to this beautiful place… Czechia, hey? I never wouldn’t predicted I’d die here!”
“Hey, don’t you even think about dying, Dawn. You’re gonna have a wonderful and long life, ok?” Elliot bantered with her.
Then, Elliot was tapped on the shoulder. He turned around, but obviously; he didn’t know who it was. “Hello?” He enquired.
“Wow, you can’t even sense your own mother’s presence,” Gwen shook her head, but then smiled quickly, upon noticing Elliot’s face light up into a smile. The two quickly jumped into a hug.
“You’re back… Gwen, I’m so happy you’re here.” Elliot was grateful to have his oldest friend – who was now also his stepmother – by his side this far into a world gone mad.
Some time later, Erica had travelled to the middle of one of the bridges crossing over the river and was looking out across the water.
“Mattias, are you there? Over.” She asked into her radio, to which white noise responded.
“Mattias, are you there? Over.” She tried again, getting the same blank response.
She adjusted the dial at the top of the device slightly, to switch to another frequency. “Klara, are you receiving me? Over.”
At first, there was no response from her either.
But then, just as Erica was about to ask after her once more, there was a response.
“Receiving you Erica. Is everything alright? Over.” Klara sounded calm; which for some reason gave Erica an odd feeling.
“Everything’s fine here,” she answered cautiously. “Is everything alright with you? Where are you? Weren’t you and Mattias supposed to be back last night? Over.”
There was silence for several seconds.
“Yes, yes,” Klara answered, once again in a calm voice. “I’ve just been delayed, that’s all.”
“You? What about Mattias? Is he not with you?” Erica caught on to Klara’s use of a singular pronoun.
“Oh, no. Not anymore, no, he’s… Well he’s left.” Again, Klara still sounded calm, which ironically rang a subtle alarm in the back of Erica’s mind.
“What do you mean ‘left’? To go where?”
“I’m not sure. He just… Well he told me there was something h
e needed to; his own personal errand – I guess that’s why he decided to come with me on this supply run.”
“Klara, are you sure everything is alright?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. I’ve even got some pills and some canned food too.”
“From where? Have you mapped out a new location?
“Oh no, it wasn’t anything major. It was just… A caravan. On the side of the road. It was completely abandoned and rotting, and there were a few things in it… Over.”
Something about this conversation made the hairs on the back of Erica’s neck stand up. “Right… And is that where you and Mattias parted ways?”
Klara went silent once again for several more seconds. “No,” she finally answered, “He left just before that.” Her calm tone had now dissipated into something else; something more secretive.
“Well, just be careful,” Erica decided not to call her out on her uncertainty, “If you’re not back by this evening I’ll send a second team out for you, ok?” Erica partly said this out of care for Klara, but also to deter her in the possibility that she was in fact hiding something.
“Gotcha. On my way back now boss. Over and out.” Klara tuned out rather quickly from the frequency.
Erica put her walkie back on her side and resumed looking out across the still river.
In their home, Gwen and Annabelle were doing some light housekeeping.
“Shit, there’s no bleach.” Gwen stated after rummaging through the cupboard under the sink.
Annabelle chuckled.
“What is it?” Gwen looked over at her with a smile.
“Nothing really… Just, hearing you complain about the lack of bleach ‘in the house’ reminds me of when I was young. You used to absolutely scream at dad whenever he forgot to buy it.” As she said this, a feeling of nostalgia came over Annabelle.
Human Nature (Book 3): Human Nature III Page 4