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View character profile for: Flynn White-Chapel
Flash Back Introduction.
Roughly ten years ago
The morning was early and still carried a chilly wind. Even from the distance the 'new' village sat at this time of morning you could hear that howling whistle of the wind that sweep through the old city's streets and the gaping dark voids that once held windows. I awoke for the day ahead. The hunters had a job to do. The village was in need of supplies. Our job was to clear the area out for long enough to let the gathers grab what they could. Starting early was the only way to make sure we would have enough day light to not worry about the night fall bringing the Forsaken out for their nightly hunt.
Pushing the covers aside and swinging my feet out to the floor the chill hit me like a wall. Pulling on my clothes, and knocking anything that could have decided to sneak into my boots over night out before pulling them on. Mother was in the living area. Sitting by the fire. She turned to me with that warm smile, but oh so tired eyes. She was far to young still to be as tired as she looked even in the world I was born into. I kissed her on the forehead before pulling my gun belts on, and getting my satchel. "We'll be back in a few hours" was the last thing I said to her as I put on my hat and walked out the door..
Meeting with the others in the center of town. The mismatch of people all gathered, looking to me...their defacto leader. Not for my skill, not for my dominating authority. But for my luck, and my shooting. Looking to me like the hero in that comic book. Not that they knew anything about that. That's just how I saw it.
We rode to the city, in rickety machines cobbled together from old cars, and motorbikes. Our ability to make fuel wasn't...well it wasn't great. The machines coughed out large, thick, dense black clouds. No machine as a few had even remotely good timing on their engines. Mine was cobbled together from four maybe six different bikes. But they all ran, and that was all that mattered. An old large military truck made for carrying troopers was retrofitted to carry supplies.
Arriving at the city the vehicles parked the gatherers waited for the signal, and the hunters headed down the main road. Being as quite as we could was a necessity. Giving the signal to fan out but say in eye line with each other. The group of twelve did as they were told. Until one of the men was spooked by what was likely to have been falling debris. He fired off six shots. When the ringing echo of the shots silenced it was replaced by those horrible gurgling groans. I have no idea why they sounded like that, rotting vocal cords maybe? Regardless that was when all hell broke loose.
At first it was just a few shambling, wobbling foot steps that were breaking into runs. But it wasn't long before it was an encompassing sound. All around us the sound grew louder and louder. More than I'd ever heard in one place at one time, and even a fourth of this mass would be four times to many for this far in the outskirts. I let rip a loud high pitched whistle. Drawing my rifle from my back the men were all ready...or so they thought. It all seemed fine. about twenty maybe thirty rounded a corner about a block away. Then ten dropped from a window above one of the men, they dropped right on him. Half of them started to pummel and tear at him while the other five tired to untangle themselves from the broken mass. Those that did stand were damaged, some had bones sticking through their grayish putrid skin. One's head had taken a significant blow and it made it a few steps before collapsing again. While I was distracted with this another two swarms had emerged from separate adjacent allies.
One woman fired wildly at the air as they wrenched her arms upward and sank teeth into his torso as they over whelmed him pulling her to the ground before dog piling her. Thick red gore pooled under the mass. It was so much to take in. All around me friends were swarmed, ripped and torn into nothing more but an unrecognizable pile of meat and splintered bones.
I fired, straight. Killing as many as I could. Backing up the whole way. That's when I heard it. The trucks all pulling away. Leaving me...like cowards. Not allowing my time to retreat. In the moment I turned my head to see the Army vehicle taking up the rear and my bike over turned. click, Click CLICK. I was out of ammo. Tossing the rifle and drawing my last resort six shooters. I fired eleven shots, killing eleven of them. The last bullet was going to be for me. But they were on top of me before I could even plug myself. I'd have rather died then feel the flesh pulled off my bones, or worse getting turned. As they encircled me I swung. Trying to bat them away for long enough to put the gun to my head. But it was futile, I was still swinging when the first of them threw their bodies onto mine. Throwing them off and back onto the others. Some fell, but there were more. So many more. I was finally over taken. Still swinging and trashing, but as my knees touched was was asphalt moments ago was not sand. Soft warm sand, and no weight crushing down on me. I raised my head to find myself on a beach. No windy echo. Only the sound of birds, and the gentle lapping of waves on the surf.
Flynn sat on that same beach he'd arrived on. He liked to come her to think. Watching the surf, and turning the spit over his camp fire. The massive crab sizzled in its shell. Humming to himself.