A New, Dead World

"These things never look this human when they attack you," I sighed to myself. I was stuck in a small shack with a dead Thrash. That's what they were calling these things now, Thrashes. Big, muscular things, mutated humans. The skin is gone, replaced by some sort of black, leathery hide, strong enough to stop bullets. That I had killed this one at all was a miracle in itself. Even a recently-turned Thrash is over two meters tall, and I'm almost half this one's size. Which isn't saying much, being that everyone in my unit was bigger than me. A low growl came from outside. Sounded almost like a dog, but I knew there weren't any dogs left out here. They could smell the blood of their dead comrade. "Shit, shit, shit, where did I put those damn things?" I muttered, digging through what little supplies I had left. I managed to find the grenades I was looking for, my last two. They'll have to do. There was a small window on the second floor I could use to get to the roof, but the beast had torn through the stairs trying to get me. At least he'd had the decency to leave his massive arm as a bridge. packing my last few magazines back into pockets, I slung my now-battered rifle over my shoulder and climbed the fleshy ladder to escape.

Crawling out of the window reminded me of just how ugly this world was now. It used to be beautiful, full of lush green forests and friendly people. Now it was a dark, dusty wasteland, where everything remotely normal had to fight daily just to survive. This wasn't the work of terrorists or warring countries. It was the work of a few men, studying a very special meteorite. During testing, the meteorite exploded violently, sending out huge plumes of a bright blue gas, that killed almost everything it touched. Those it didn't kill were...changed. Most became wild animals, like these Thrases that are trying to kill me now. Others were granted special powers, and new bodies to match. The rest, like me, still hold on to shreds of our humanity. But everyone touched by the gas changes, even if they don't show it outwardly. I don't age anymore. My body hasn't aged since the cloud rolled over the base. I'm not immortal, nor would I want to be. "Damn, how did we let it get so bad?" I whispered to myself before snapping back to reality. These grenades were special, concocted by a rather insane creature in a town called Aderry. He looked like a unicorn, and was almost as tall as I was, but he could somehow speak like a human. Not that being a unicorn is weird in this world. The magic would probably help with daily life. But his creations, these "virus bombs", as he called them, can undo some of the effects of that otherworldly poison. But, like the poison it counteracts, not everyone is affected the same way. Some exprience a full reversal to their untainted states, while others simply regain their minds. The rest just become docile for a few hours. Unfortunately, I have yet to be thanked by a Thrash for returning him to his sanity with these things.

I tossed one of the grenades into the throng of black-skinned rage-beasts and jumped off the other side of the roof. Hitting the ground in a roll, I heard a loud crack. Without stopping to check what it was, I took off at a run towards the sign down the road, pointing to a open-topped dome of scrap metal.

The town was called Cliffside. An odd name for a town set in the middle of a flat plain, but it was shelter from the creatures of the untamed wasteland. That crack when I hit the groun was the barrel of my rifle splitting in two. I needed a new weapon, but I hadn't found anything I could use as currency here. Oh, sure, I still had paper bills, but those were worthless for trades. They still had value, they could be used to get supplies from vending machines that still, miraculously, hadn't been broken into a raided, but everyone used scrap metal as currency now. It was useful stuff, too. Probably explains why it's the currency. You could make armor or ammo out of it. If you were smart, you could even get one of the smiths (every town has at least two smiths) to forge it into a suitable weapon. I still had my revolver, but with magnum rounds becoming more and more scarce, people were ditching them for less reliable home-made guns that would fire more common rounds. I don't care what anyone said, no one could take my Cold Warrior while I was still alive. She was a beautiful weapon, nickel-plated steel, a custom-carved maple grip, and a low-zoom optic (for which, I had to build a custom mount). I traded my rifle for a few bits of scrap and what food and ammunition the stores could spare, then looked for a place to rest for the night.

I had almost made it to what passed as a motel in the town when I walked right into her. She looked human, but not quite. She seemed too tall for an untouched human, but she wasn't quite the size of the thing I fought off in the shack. The only part of her I could see clearly in the dark were her bright green eyes.

"Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting most people can't see me in the dark," she said, smiling. It was almost as bright as her eyes, and far scarier than it should have been, from the way she spoke. "I'm Eziel! What's your name?"

"I don't have a name. Haven't had one in a long time," I replied, with a sigh.

"Well that's no good! I have to call you something if we're going to be friends!" My heart stopped at "friends". All of my friends were dead now. Either torn apart by the savage beasts roaming the wilds, or killed by my own hand as they started to turn.

"And what if I don't want to be friends? I've got enough problems as it is without having to look out for someone else out there," I snapped back.

"Oh, well, in that case, at least let me buy you some supplies!" she insisted. As we passed under one of the few working lights in the city, I could see why I ran into her. She didn't have skin like most people. Instead, her body was covered in scales, blacker than night. Her tail and leathery wings explained what she was clearly. One of the dragons that had started appearing in small amounts since the land was so thoroughly wasted. But she didn't look quite like the dragons in story and rumor. She looked almost human, even had hair on her head.

"You're just going to follow me when I leave, aren't you?" I asked. She looked at the ground.

"Yeah, I was. I just wanted to help! I'm sorry." I could tell she was telling the truth. No one could fake the look in her eyes as she apologized. The pain I saw in that look struck home. She had lost someone close to her too.

"Tell you what, you can stick with me until the next town, and then we can talk about being friends. How's that sounds?"

Dragons are strong creatures, and I could almost hear my ribs crying as she hugged me.