Prologue
John Hancock
John Hancock
They say it only took God seven days to create the Earth. Welcome to the end of Earth where it only took the b*****d one day to undo what he made. Now, that may have been a little bit longer than It intended for it to take and any survivors can thank me for that. They can also thank me for Its plans actually coming to fruition. In retrospect, I wish I stayed under the rock I crawled from when all this began.
Now I sit here under a new rock looking out at this barren wasteland that was once a great city of the old world. A breeze blows by under the bright, unobstructed sun pushing burnt pages of newspaper across the splintered asphalt. The ground cracks ad I continue along the path I was following before I stopped to take in the moment. As I pass an old street sign that has fallen to the ground that reads “Madison”, I notice the dried up canal that passes underneath the bridge I’m passing over. I haven’t been this far east in a while and I wasn’t expecting an entire body of water to have up and vanish. This use to be Lake Michigan, I think.
A gathering of crows from the west suddenly leap into the dusty air. My head jerks in their direction in response to their abrupt flight and in search of whatever spooked them. I’m too far to have been the one to frighten them from their perch as they were on the other side of a fallen skyscraper. No, there are survivors here. That simple thought is a double edged blade forcing me to draw my semi-automatic Ruger long rifle strapped to my back and casually take aim at nothing in particular. My blue eyes scan the area as my feet, one over the other, step onto the sidewalk and down the alley towards the parallel street.
I pass by multiple derelict buildings, skulls, charred remains of cars and people, and barely recognizable hot dog vendors. I could go for one of those.
A few moments pass and I still haven’t heard a sound from the opposite street. Perhaps I’m just paranoid or maybe I’m attempting to stalk something that is already hunting me. I have my back pressed against the corner of a ruined structure, giving my ears one last listen before I spring around to find nothing waiting for me on the other side.
I lower my rifle only to be ambushed by a blur of tan and dark brown. I feel the weight of a mans arms wrapped around my chest, forcing me to the ground. We tumble down and I’m at a disadvantage with him pinning me to the ground as he gets into a position where he is practically sitting on my stomach. Before I can gain any focus and get a look at his face, I feel a fist slam to my cheek. That’s a pain I haven’t felt since the end of the world. Kind of nice to feel alive again. He springs his other fist into the opposite cheek this time.
I finally react bringing my hand to his throat, preventing him from continuing with the assault on my face. I squeeze my thumb and index finger against his larynx. Now I get a look at his face and it’s just a kid, no older than I was when I was drafted into the war. I feel remorse for him and attempt to call a truce, but as I gently release on his larynx and begin to say something, he punches me in the face, prompting me to add more pressure to his throat and lift myself upward. Now we’re nose to nose, eye to eye, and the remorse begins to subside after I see that he’s no more than a wild animal trying to survive in this bankrupt world and he would have no qualms killing me.
I lean my head back in preparation to throw it forward, slamming it to the bridge of his nose. I can hear the sound of cartilage snapping before he gives in to the natural reaction of gripping a wound, allowing me to break free from his hold. I stumble to my feet, position myself behind him and use my foot to slam his face to the ground and hold it there.
“Now that we’re properly introduced to each other, you think you can let up and not try to turn my into a five course meal?” I ask only to get a grunt in reply. “If I give you some other food, you promise to not try to eat me?” He stops squirming along with the noises of resistance.
I remove my foot from the back of his skull, simultaneously opening the flap to the satchel at my side to retrieve a few candy bars I stockpiled on at a liquor mart. The remorse may have subsided, but he’s just trying to survive and I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing in his position.
The stranger didn’t hesitate to snatch the snacks from my hand and cower away into the building to feast. I push my blond locks away from my eyes to watch the man as he eats his meal. His clothes are tattered, much like mine, and his feet are bare. It’s obvious by the way he devours the candy that he hasn’t eaten in some time, but his strength was uncanny. Fight or flight, I suppose.
“So, do you have a name?” I ask as I follow him into the building.
He doesn’t reply. All of his attention is on the candy.
“Is there anyone else around? Sure would be nice to have someone else to talk to.” My voice lowers as I say the last part.
Again, he doesn’t reply.
“Let me see your nose.” I lean down to eye level with him and attempt to examine his nose, but he releases a fierce growl that would frighten a black bear at its hungriest. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
I stand to my feet and glance around at the interior of this building to find that there are still a few floors remaining that have access from the ground level. I pull up my weapon, deciding to have a look around. I take one last scan around at my surroundings to ensure that the stranger is safe before I head off into the abandoned building.
“No apparent danger.” I whisper to myself. “He’ll be fine.”
There’s a dismantled escalator farther in, covered by shadows and debris that I make my way toward to reach the second level. My eyes follow the barrel of my rifle until I reach the escalator and am forced to maneuver around fallen pieces of support beams and ventilation systems. Once I reach the second floor I have to watch my step to avoid the gaping holes in the floor that would surely break my legs. With each step forward the sunlight gradually vanishes, cueing me to bring out a flashlight from a cargo pocket on my pants. Luckily the batteries haven’t died yet.
There are several shops lined up on this floor like a mall. The first one I come across is an electronic store. My eyes light up in excitement before I enter and quickly search for batteries and any other necessary items to survive in this depressing world. I open my satchel to load up on different types of batteries, my eyes rapidly scouring the area for anything else. I grab a pair of needle-nose pliers off the wall, toss a wire cutter into the bag, slide a digital recorder into my pants pocket and a pair of two-way radios to top off the shopping spree.
I secure the messenger bag so that nothing will fall out and raise the flashlight to do one last look around when a groan emits from the entrance to the store. I raise the rifle with the light aimed at the doorway. I can hear rubble fall along with the shuffle of footsteps closing in on the store.
“Kid, that you?” I ask, hoping it’s the boy that tried to kill me earlier.
My eyes bounce side to side as my mind is frantically running wild with what it could be on the other side of the wall. That’s when the groan becomes louder and the source emerges. A bald head of a man rounds the corner. He is leaning against the wall with his left shoulder and his eyes follow the ground until they find me, bringing a grin to his face.
“Do I know you?” He asks with a grin forming across his face. “You look mighty familiar”.
I tighten my grip on the Ruger and keep line of sight on his face. “I don’t know you, so no, you don’t know me.”
“Sure I do. You’re Zachary Weston, aren’t you?”
He catches me off guard uttering my name like that and just as I slightly lower the rifle to get a clearer look at his face, my eye catches something unexpected near his feet. A feather is slowly falling to the marble floor. My eyes go wide and before I can lift the gun to get a proper aim, he is leaping toward me with his feathered wings fully extended and a shriek that would send chills down the back of a deaf man.
I slam my finger back on the trigger too late with the bullet piercing a wing, virtually inflicting zero pain on the celestial. He throws the gun behind him, out the door before I can get out of the way of his tackle. He takes me to the ground, slamming the back of my head against the floor, not once, but twice for good measure. It works too because things begin to fade to black after the second blow, but I manage to maintain consciousness and see his look of rage. Before he can slam my head for a third time, I interlock my fingers behind his head and pull him closer, preventing him from having enough momentum to collide my skull with the linoleum.
Left with little choice, I pull his head back then throw it forward into my forehead. It seemed to work earlier and now I’m two for two as his nose snaps. He releases a burst of vocalized pain and unknowingly lowers his strength that is keeping me pinned down, allowing me to push up and roll him onto his back and gain the upper hand. I leap to my feet rather than pin him down and bash his face in because the moment he regain his composure, his strength will outmatch mine, by far.
I rush for the rifle, but the pain in his nose wasn’t nearly as bad as I anticipated and he is able to grab my ankle before I’m out of arms reach. This sends me to the ground no closer to my weapon than I was before. I roll over to get a look at my assailant in time to see him pull a jagged blade from a sheath behind his back.
“We have you to thank for this new era and once I destroy you, I’ll be welcomed back into Heaven’s gates with open arms.” His grin hadn’t faded since he first entered the store.
I shuffle backwards to gain some distance between the two of us and close the gap between my rifle and I. “You really think that killing me will open the gates? They won’t even open for Michael.”
“At least I’ll be able to say I tried.” With that, he charges forward with the dagger thirsty for blood.
I spin around and rush for the Ruger to find that the candy loving cannibal is holding it in his grasp at his hip and trained on me and the celestial warrior. I don’t bother thinking, I just jump to the side in time to hear the click of the firing pin and the explosion from the barrel as a single round hurls through the air to pierce the soldiers forehead. Not even a blink of an eye passes by the time the bullet escapes from the other end of his head, sending blood and brain matter to stain the floor. His body falls lifeless to the ground while I cower in a corner in fear that the stranger is going to aim for my head next.
I watch him enter the electronic store, his eyes fixed on the dead man before he slowly turns his head to stare at me. I’m unsure of what to think as I stare back at his emotionless face until he drops the rifle and walks out of the store. The crescendo of the metal clashing with the tiled floor hadn’t ceased by the time I rushed to retrieve my weapon. I stood in the entryway and glanced between my deceased attacker and my mute savior. I kneel down and pocket the dagger from the corpse, then turn a hundred and eighty degrees to follow the stranger.
The mute is kneeling with his back against a column of rubble playing with the empty foil candy wrappers I gave him. After I shoulder the rifle and descend the escalator, I approach him and momentarily watch as he marvels at the wrappers.
“Well, I’m gonna go now.” I wait for a sign of recognition.
Nothing.
“I wanted to thank you for saving my a** back there. They may be mostly powerless, but they’re still faster and stronger than you and me.”
He continues with the wrappers.
“Okay, take care of yourself. Try not to eat anyone that doesn’t deserve it.” I turn and continue in the direction I was heading before this minor detour distracted me. At least I got some batteries and other supplies out of it. Before I get out of reach of the ruined structure I hear a soft sniffle from behind. When I spin around, I find that the mute has been following me.
“You want to come with?” He stares back at me with a soft and gentle look that was there all along if I wasn’t blind to the fact that he had tried killing me for dinner not long ago. “You can come with, but I have two rules you need to follow. I can’t have you talking up a storm because I like the silence on the road.” I stared at him for recognition. “And you’re going to need a name. I can’t just call you Mute. That was the Hancock building, right? How about John?”
He looked at me without a care in the world.
“John it is.”
