Post apocalypse (No title yet, heh.)

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.” - Albert Einstein

Since the dawn of mankind, when humans learnt to utilize stone and bone into tool, they have waged war upon one another. From the cavalry battlefields in medieval Europe, too the stagnant global wars of attrition that gripped the world during the middle of the 20th century, wars have always been a part of humanity. The slaughter associated with war has been justified with everything, European crusades on infidels and heathens, the Spanish conquered South America for land and gold. The romans built an empire conquering lands and slaughtering what they viewed as tribal savages, Hitler turned a crippled Germany into a world superpower. Even down to plain psychotic rage. In the years leading up to 2036, humanity drove the world into an apocalypse; government experiments, bioweapons utilized in terrorism, plague from reduced living standards, wars of attrition and starvation of the world’s resources climaxed with a great war in this year, on the date of the 21st of September. Although lasting a mere 5 hours, the results were cataclysmic, catastrophic. People open to the explosion were killed in an instant, landscapes shifted, sea levels altered, the majority of mankind history was wiped out in an instant, the explosion obliterating many buildings in seconds. The radiation that followed killed many more, causing horrid mutations, simultaneously wiping out and creating thousands of new species almost overnight.
However this was not as many thought the end of the world. Instead, this cataclysm began a new depraved chapter in the history of mankind.





Malmberget army depot, Malmberget, Sweden. 4th July 2036. 5:46PM
The patriotic jeers of American soldiers filled the air, a resonance of joy and patriotism throughout the many halls. The mess hall in particular was rampant with drunkard off duty soldiers, barely kept in place by poorly motivated officers. They sang together, playfully scuffled, smoked, drank, cheered. Although, these petered out into small whispers and the occasional giggle as the main doors swung open, a stout, robust looking man in his early 40's entering the room, accompanied by two slightly younger looking men at either side of him. U.S Army Colonel (and head of the base) Jonathon Ironsides glanced around the room with a stern frown. He cleared his throat and announced in a reserved but confident voice; "I am all but at a loss for words. What I am seeing here is perhaps a most heinous act against the codes of conduct of the U.S army. I would have it in the right mind to have you all permanently relieved of your duties. Although, without my men, what is this base but another target? So, I do say... happy 4th of July!" The colonel cheered and revealed two bottles of premium champagne from the underneath of his jacket, tearing his hat from his head and launching it into the air.
As the evening went on, the air tinted a deep blood orange; three men stumbled outside the mess hall in drunken stupor, gripping tightly onto half empty bottles of whiskey. They were supported by a slightly less drunk man, late twenties. They giggled and sang, dragging their boots across the stone pathway towards their officer barracks. "Hahahaha! One hell of a night gents!" One of them jeered. "I still can't believe you snorted that shit!" Another cried. The apparent superior seemed to attempt to hush them as he halted in his tracks, to no avail, they carried on.
U.S Army Captain Robert George Phillipson, stood at approximately 6 feet, moderately built. He sported jet black hair and emerald green eyes. Rustic, leader like facial features, leathered from war. 
He glanced towards the setting sun, drawing a stiff cigarette from his trouser pocket and lighting it efficiently. Drawing his attention momentarily to the intoxicated soldiers moving into the distance, he chuckled. He drew from the cigarette; three black birds appeared in the distance across the sky. He watched them dance around the crimson and orange sky, for a moment feeling at peace from the terrors of the war. He drew from the cigarette once again, though the aged paper snapped at the base, the remainder of the cigarette falling to the ground. "Damn" he uttered under his breath, glancing back at the sky, linking his hands behind his back. "The birds seem larger." He conspired in his head. It hit him. "Enemy plane, enemy plane!" he cried out into the base, his echoes seemingly heard by no one. The roads were deserted. Everyone was inside celebrating.

He slammed open the doors of the mess hall, yelling inside, above the cries and cheers of the raucous soldiers "Enemy plane! Code Bravo! Bravo!" Chaos ensued. Officers attempt to keep control, but they knew that this was a death warrant. Captain Phillipson wasted no time, reserving his alcohol; he thankfully had improved motor skills over his comrades. The planes drew closer, the death bringing hum of a XM-500 bomber settled over the base. He approached his barracks and fumbled with his keys, opening the door and climbing inside the military hummer truck. His world seemed to slow down in that instant, gazing over the base. Men were sprinting down the roads, desperately searching for cover. He saw outside the command centre a line of four people, The Colonel and the 3 Lieutenant colonels. He watched merely in dismay as the Colonel drew a Glock-40 plasma pistol, placed it to this temple and pulled the trigger. The high powered bolt of plasma shot through his head and completely disintegrated his brain in a fraction of a second, exiting through the back of  his head.
He was brought back to reality by a light pattering on the window. A bloodied 2nd lieutenant, assisted by a staff sergeant was at the window, pleading for entry. He granted them entry and began driving towards the exit of the base. "H-he shot me! Told me we had doomed them! Doomed everyone! He said that humanity didn't... he said humanity had no hope left." The lieutenant stammered on, cradling his injury in the shoulder. "You're lucky you didn't hit a major artery" Phillipson replied, his main concern remaining on leaving the base. The staff sergeant didn't speak a word. He sped up, the heavy military grade hummer more than enough to penetrate the gates of the base. He continued to speed up, looking in his mirror as three hefty bombs were dropped, one at the army depot, and another two towards the skyline of Malmberget, a very recently flourishing city, powered by non-Muslim immigrants seeking shelter from Finland and other eastern European countries. His heart sank. He damned sure felt the other men's heart sink as well.
A blinding light filled the sky, making it seem as if it were midday. In an instant, three blistering mushroom clouds appeared in the sky, paralyzed with fear, not a word was spoken, nor an action made. Maybe 20 seconds later, a shockwave hit the vehicle, sending it flying into the countryside. The three men groggily clambered out of the damaged vehicle, landing in a nearby field, accompanied by a small stream. "Dig! Dig for your fucking life!" The captain screamed. And dug for their lives they did. They utilized shards of metal from the vehicle as makeshift tools, although it was apparent it was not enough. A minute had passed by as if it were seconds, a destructive wall of fire and brimstone quickly approaching the men. The staff sergeant grimaced, considerably larger than both the captain and the lieutenant he shoved them into the shallow pit. Before the captain could demand what the hell he was doing, he slammed down one of the back doors above the two officers.

The fire washed over him, not instantly incinerating him, but his skin cracked and flaked off, his raw muscle bubbled and dropped from the bone, his cries of agony grew hoarse, then silent. He collapsed above the door. It was done. Phillipson clawed away at crumbling earth, sliding from beneath the fallen sergeant and the door, assisting the lieutenant out. "He suffered a horribly and agonizing death to save us." He uttered in a hoarse whisper. The lieutenant remained silent, pulling his beret from his head. His eyes brimmed with tears. "Help me. He deserves some kind of burial." The lieutenant nodded, pulling the beret back over his head. The pair tenderly moved the body with some difficulty, their hands becoming sticky with hot blood and flesh. They dragged away the excessively cumbersome door - it was a miracle the sergeant moved it has he had done by himself - and moved the charred body into the grave. They dragged the door back over him, and they both placed their hands upon their hearts and solemnly sang the national anthem.
They finished the makeshift proceedings and glanced around the surrounding countryside. Thick, dark mud was what remained of the formerly vibrant lush green fields. The nearby stream was reduced to a trickle of stagnant, muddy water. The trees were stripped bare of leaves, left thin, wiry and black. They clambered up the hill face and back onto the road, cracked and shattered by the shockwave and explosion. The two glanced towards the city; the skyline was set aflame, the three mushroom clouds slowly expanded in the air.













Stysler building, Uptown Manhattan, New York City 5th July 7:45 AM
"The limited nuclear exchange in northern Sweden is the first use of nuclear weaponry since 1945, and many officials fear it won't be the last for the near future..." the television blared. Nicholas Romero, vice CEO of SamCo industries sank into the warm black leather couch. The morning sun streamed through the windows, the atmosphere was dense and warm already. He rubbed his eyes groggily, having only slept 3 hours and still slightly drunk he paced out into the velvet carpet clad, expansive top floor of the Stysler building. A true marvel of engineering. He moved to an embossed oak table, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He dropped a couple ice cubes into the drink and swiveled to face the skyline of Manhattan. Pollution rose from the streets. With a population of over 60 million, New York City was incredibly dense and struggled daily to keep up with the needs of such a large amount of people.
A familiar ping resonated in his ears. The large cylinder in the centre of the room opened on, a grotesquely overweight elderly man entered the room. Mounted on a mechanized wheelchair, multiple tubes entered and exited his body, supported by a drip and advanced life support systems. He was clad in a yellow stained work short and black pants, food stains of varying ages encrusted on the shirt beneath his chin which pressed into the shirt. Samuel Pratt - CEO of SamCO industries. "Boss, didn't expect you up so early" Nick commented. Sam generated a foul gurgling sound at the back of his throat, a large globule of dark green phlegm exiting one of the tubes in his nose. He spoke in a raspy grunt. "Mm, morning." he paused for a moment, letting rip a crisp fart before continuing. "You have it?" Nick nodded, a small grin planted on his face. He excitedly approached a draped object, with Sam following him on, the whir of his wheelchair motors struggling beneath the weight of him and the machines keeping him alive. He tore away the drapes, revealing a silver tube, covered in several slots, a blue glow emanated beneath it. "The tesla coil, marked safe for use by our engineers. The American government has offered us a space in Heaven in return for the tesla coil. Sam nodded in finalization, pivoting around and exiting the floor. Leaving behind a stench of body odor and what seemed like cat urine.
Nick sighed, glancing out into the city. "What are we to do with you, world? What are we to do?"




50 stories down, leagues of office workers were already well into their day, starting the laborious process. The air was thick and warm, only relieved by the air conditioning vents around the room, an orchestra of clicking and tapping filled the room. Romero entered the room and the atmosphere changed immediately. “Good morning Mr. Romero.” A Sino-American man said. Romero retorted with a nod, snatching the instant coffee from his hands and greedily gulping. He navigated through the concrete jungle, entering one of the small cubicles in the far corner. The pale wiry worker stood up immediately, his eyes focused on the ground. Nick glared at him derisively, snapping at him. “Look at me when I talk to you!” “Y-yes sir.” The worker meekly responded. Romero placed the half empty coffee on the workers desk.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, shaky eyes tried to keep focus on the intimidating Romero. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? We both know what we’re talking about.” The worker stammered, bringing his hands close to his chest and rubbing them together nervously. “I-I, I didn’t realize! It was a mistake! The losses weren’t detrimental in the end, I swear on my life!” Nick scowled, shoving him aside he accessed the terminal, clicking away eagerly, a spreadsheet pops up on the screen? “Well what the fuck is this then?” Before the worker could manage a response, Nick clasped a fist around the curls of unwashed dirty blonde hair, tearing him outside the cubicle. He brought a closed fist square to his jaw, the worker flopping to the ground akin to a wet sock. He repeatedly punched him in the face, chanting over and over “You. Do. Not. Fucking. Lie. To. Me!” The other workers merely looked on, the faces varied from utter to shock to merely tiresome. As if this kind of thing was a regular occurrence. Some people had not even drawn their attention away from their terminals.
Romero stood up, cradling his raw fist in the other hand, shooing the workers away. “Get back to work! All of you!” The worker lay motionless on the floor.

40 blocks away, downtown Manhattan. 1:34pm
Eyes fixated on the terminal, darting around and examining the information presented. The live streamed news report filled the dark apartment room with a faint glow, illuminating the man sat in his underwear. “From initial reports, 19 year old finance assistant Jeremy Travels has now been confirmed dead at the scene of a case of manslaughter. The perpetrator his fellow co-worker Amanda Twine who had reportedly grown increasingly infuriated with his infatuation over her. Deputy CEO Nick Romero quotes.” “It’s terrible, he was a valuable asset to the company and he will be sorely missed.” He scratched his back, chewing lazily on a microwave Panini, still frozen in the centre. He closes the live stream and begins fiddling with keys and software, strings of numbers beginning to file across the screen. He chortles, opening his favorite internet forum to boast of his hacking espionages to anonymous viewers.
What came next resulted in half chewed Panini spewed across the desk. “The fuck is this?” He whispered to himself. He immediately drew upon a more focused, hunched position, typing away eagerly, a file began to download. “Wake up dickface! I’ve got something important looking here Jake!” He picked up a nearby trainer, launching it to the mound lying on a bed, an elongated moan following. “Get up! Get the fuck up! Check this shit out!”
Jake scrambled out of bed, let out a soft yawn and tore open the curtains in the room, immediately enlightening the filthy room. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, causing the man to howl out. “Argh, that’s fucking bright dude!” Jake let out a dry, throaty laugh and scratched the stubble beneath his chin. “Yeah, come here. This is like some top government shit right here!” The file had been downloaded, decrypted and decoded. He opened the file.
Present on the screen were 2 word documents and a video. They were labeled “HEAVEN.doc” “EVOTEST.doc” and “EVOTEST.wmv” He opened the EVOTEST document first. Their eyes scanned the contents of the document. Jake turned to his friend, retorting quietly “The fuck is this shit? Like, top secret government tests?” His friend shrugged, scrolling down through the screen. There were diagrams in places, pictures of animals. But they didn’t seem quite right. Their muscle composition was increased far beyond nature’s norms, eyes were heavily bloodshot, fur and hair was reduced. “What the fuck is our government doing? This shit is whack!” Jake expressed, almost with concern. He didn’t seem to care about much, either. His friend nodded in agreement, retorting quietly. “Well, I’m not so sure, but from what I can see it’s some kind of… mutagen they’re infecting species with.” He closed the document and opened the video file and sank into the computer chair.
The video that followed showed firstly flatworms being dipped into clear vats, the mutagen taking its effect would result in increased muscle growth and speed. The same test takes place on rats, causing increased muscle growth, size, loss of hair and increased aggressiveness. The last four minutes showed a human forcibly being infected with the mutagen. His cries of pain were muffled by the restraints, the mutagen overtaking his body. The video is sped up; over the course of what’d seem like a few hours the subject would experience a transformation into a hulking dull-crimson abomination of a man. It takes a full clip from an assault carbine to his head to put him out of his misery.
The pair looked at each other in disbelief; Jake crooned slowly “The fuck was that? What the fuck did they do to that guy?” His friend was silent, turning back to the screen and opened the heaven document. With increased vigor and a renewed sense of curiosity, the two scanned down the document.

It contained information, documentation and diagrams of a network of underground vaults constructed beneath settlements across the country. Although apparently reserved for the VIP’s of the country. “They… they think there’s going to be a nuclear war, the government.” He expressed. Jake stood up, wandering around the room and trying to absorb all the information. “This is horseshit! They’re going to let us all burn in a war they fucking caused whilst they sit down in cushy little underground hideouts! Well fuck it. We’re going to the news, this shit’s going on the internet. Fuck the government psychopaths, they’ve doomed us. Well and truly fucked us over.”



















Los Angeles, California, 21st July 1:00 AM
He trembled before the hooded gang. Their leader’s speech was muffled with the bandana over most of his face. A cruel, toothy grin was painted on the bandana. “You know what to do.” He declared, handing the 15 year old Caleb a weathered SIG Sauer P220 handgun. He nodded towards a battered and bloodied policeman bound and ganged on the floor. His eyes welled with tears. Caleb turned to the gang, stammering gingerly “Are you sure about this?” The gang leader snapped back at him “Hell’s yeah I am! Now shut the fuck up and do it if you want to join!” Caleb nodded and pressed the barrel of the handgun to the police officers temple. He turned away and squeezed the trigger.
He fell lightheaded, the corpse of the police officers brains were splattered across the road. He collapsed to the floor and was met with sinister laughs of the gang members. They began kicking him viciously, he soon blacked out.
His vision blurred back into focus to the sounds of commotion. He sprang to his feet, breathing heavy. He ached all over; his arms and legs throbbed in pain. “Motherfucker…” He whispered. The commotion was down the street, a large mob of hooded gangs, crowded around a police barricade, gas was being fired but it seemed little to staunch the constant flooding of gangers. They flooded into the intersection from multiple streets; including the one Caleb was on. He began sprinting towards the crowd, the gangers didn’t seem to bother him, he was clad entirely similarly to them.
Approaching the mob he managed to squeeze his way near to the front, bottles were being lobbed at the police officers desperately trying to keep order. “Stand down and you will not be hurt. Law and order must be retained, we have been issued with marshal law and we will not hesitate to use lethal force in the event of prolonged aggression.” The sergeant chanted through a loudspeaker, although this older aggravated the mob.
One man stepped forward from the rest, he turned to the crowd. Guns were aimed at him by the police. “Are we going to stand any longer? While the government sit back and hide from an imminent war they have caused, the masses wait in poverty for the ultimate destruction? I say no more!” He turned to the police and cried out. “Fuck them! Fuck the leaders! Fuck the government! Fuck the military! Fuck the war! Fuck the resources! Fuck the starvation, the fear, the poverty, the crime, and fuck you!” With the completion of his speech, he lit a Molotov and launched it towards the police, setting two riot officers ablaze. Fires began shooting and the mob began charging towards them.


Caleb terrified out of his mind ran towards a nearby building, taking cover at a soft drinks vending machine. The de facto leader chuckled heartily as the gangers ran past him, although suffering some losses, ultimately the police were overran by the gangers due to sheer number ratio, and howling in victory, they fired shots from SMG’s, handguns and shotguns into the air.
The remaining police officers retreated down to the end of the road, a young officer chanting into the radio. “We need backup damn it! Backup on the intersection of Brook’s avenue, Dutch bridge road and 27th street! Now! The gangers have taken over!” Meanwhile, at the intersection the newly declared leader glanced over at Caleb, beckoning him over in a cold yet oddly inviting voice. “Come here friend, we won’t hurt you.” The tall hooded figure pulled down a bandana to reveal the face of a young African American man. “What’s your name kid?” “C-Caleb” He replied in a nervous stammer. “No need to be afraid yo, we’re on your side. The government pigs have doomed the world, but they’re not dooming us, you dig? We’re taking over the city, anarchy is the new fascism.” He scoffed, patting Caleb on the back, to which he replied with a nod and embracing the man.
The nearest police station was overrun with hysterical police officers charging around the station, a captain was present in a futile attempt to keep order. They’d come from many parts of the city, overrun with gangs and anarchists, many crowded around a television set. The news was recording the events of the night via helicopter, evidence that the city had been thrown into turmoil, not only L.A but many other major cities across the globe in light of government leaks. The city was consumed with violence.
“This is a government issued emergency broadcast. Law abiding citizens, please remain in your residence until the situation has been dealt with. Do not approach trouble-makers or assist them in any way. Peace and order will be restored shortly.” The artificial voice blared out via regional broadcast on the radio. The early morning dusk began to rise as the first glimpse of sunlight pierced through the sky. “Are they coming for us?” Caleb inquired. “Nah, we should be good here, yours family looking for you?” The man replied. Caleb shook his head, twiddling his thumbs nervously; he sat on the edge of the couch. He was exhausted albeit, sufficiently fueled with adrenaline. The apartment was run down, with graffiti on the walls, it seemed like a squatter’s house with paint peeling from the walls and ceiling. A shrill buzz resonated through the room as the doorbell was rang, shortly followed by three men bursting through the room. One of them yelled to Caleb and the man: “Pigs are coming quickly! We gotta fucking dash, like right now!” They didn’t hesitate and were gone almost instantly afterwards. They both looked to one another, than scrambled, collecting their belongings and charging through the door. Sirens wailed in the distance, Caleb following the man to a Grey BMW. The radio buzzed with the same government broadcast over and over, and could not be turned off. The phrase chimed throughout the city. They began speeding down the street, police cars tore through the run-down neighborhood, firing shots at anyone, Men, women children. It was a slaughter. Caleb looked back, watching people fall to the guns of the police force. “Shit, they’re killing everyone! Like, even old people and kids and stuff!” He cooed in shock. The man sped up, the BMW screeching onto a main road, zooming past the morning traffic in panic. Many people were rioting and protesting, few were doing their jobs. The city was in turmoil and the police murdering innocents only further fueled the situation.
There was a torrent of pings and crashing noises as bullets began to hail upon the car, followed by a warm, fuzzy feeling in Caleb’s side. It quickly tightening and convulsed in pain at the area, clenching it tightly he felt liquid. Blood was pouring from his torso and quickly. “I’m shot! I’ve… I’ve been shot!” The words seemed to drain from his mouth, a pool of blood developing on the floor. The bullet pierced a major artery.
He quickly fell drowsy and lightheaded as the man’s voice echoed through his head, pleading him to stay wake. Warmth washed over his body as he slowly fell numb before blacking out.















Washington D.C suburbs, Washington D.C 8th September 8:51 AM
The cool autumn sun streamed through the blinds, a young boy burst through the door, hurdling himself onto the bundle of blankets on the bed, screeching: “Mommy mommy wake up! It’s my birthday!!” He clucked. A tired undertone bellowed from the blankets; “Happy birthday sweetie…” Tossing in the covers, a nightgown clad woman, with curly brown locks emerged from the bed, pulling the young boy towards her and embracing him in a hug. “Guess what mommy got you for your birthday!” She croaked. Her son jumped up and down in joy, toddling beside her as she shuffled to the bathroom. She downed series of pills and spooned medicine down her throat. Her son waited eagerly beside her. She gave a throaty laugh and took a wrapped box from the medicine cabinet, handing it to her son. “Happy birthday” She chuckled, the boy tearing it open joyfully. He beamed, gripping tightly an issue 1 Max soldier comic book. “Oh, thank you mommy!” He sang. The mother slumped down the corridor, banging on one of the doors loudly, “Wake up Ellen! I don’t want you in your bed all day!” To which she was returned with a soft “Go away”. She signed and retorted “Just be up before 10AM honey.”
In the kitchen she cracked eggs into a bowl, mixing together pancake batter whilst her son waited impatiently at the table. She gazed through the window absently, her eyes focusing on a figure moving down the street. “Who was it, a bum? Or was it a ganger? No, it couldn’t be. Washington D.C is the safest place in the U.S” She theorized in her head. She glared at him with expressive distaste, pouring the pancake batter into a frying pan. She began cleaning the pan, the same man still wandering aimlessly down the street. A gent walked his dog along the sidewalk, blatantly attempting to avoid the man. What was seen next can be only described at best as a fit of rage, the abnormal man bounded atop the gent, thrashing above him relentlessly. He was eventually shoved aside, the man fleeing away in terror, clasping his neck… blood poured down his body.
She let out a barely audible gasp; reaching for the phone and dialing 911. “Hello what is your emergency?” A warm female voice answered on the line. “S-someone just got attacked by a man on the streets! He, he tore open his throat with his mouth!” She spluttered frantically. The operator paused for a moment, incomprehensible voices in the background. “Okay ma’am, please state your address and the police and an ambulance will be dispatched to the neighborhood. I will stay on line with you until authorities arrive okay?” She staggered out her words, replying “U-um, 2155, Rose Thorn Avenue.” The young boy interrupted, complaining: “Mommy, where are my pancakes?” The woman countered coldly. “Not now sweetie, go to your room.” “But Mommy!” He cried in response to which she snapped “Go to your room!” He stomped his feet, dragging himself to his room in a temper.

She clenched onto the phone, watching as the bitten man fell onto the road, jerking in a violent fit. A Volkswagen screeched to a halt in the road, a young couple bounding from the car to assist the man on the road. They attempted first aid on him, the fit worsening until he froze. The couple conversed among one another, although shortly afterwards the gent thrashed at the couple, snarling and yelling he sunk his teeth into the young ladies shoulder, collapsing on the road. The infected man scuffled with the young man for a short while, leading to him overpowering the young man and thrashing atop without any hesitation.
She flicked open her cellphone, dialing on her phone. The gruff voice of her husband answered. “Honey, are you okay?” Crying down the phone she answered with: “Is it happening in the city too, what the hell is going on Aaron?!” He sighed exhaustively, confirming quietly. “Yeah, if you mean them I mean the diseased people, whatever they are. I’m coming for you and the kids I know a safe place, they call it the Heaven project. It’s all over the internet, and I’m pretty damn sure it’s not a hoax. Sit tight.” The phone call ended and she shrieked through the house. “Get your things together! Aaron junior! Ellen! We need to go!” She pounded down the door of her daughter’s room, the gothic teenager scowling at her and slamming her laptop shut. “What mom, what is it?” “Never mind what is it, we need to go! I’m deadly serious right now!” She spat out sourly, bounding to her sons room. She hustled them together, entering the garage and hauling bags into the back, she ushered her children inside and launched herself into the driver’s seat, opening the garage doors and speeding onto the street. The suburbia was in chaos, those infected “people” were running rampant, attacking people. Gun shots were fired, homeowners attempted to fend them off with garden tools.
Although her son remained pleasantly oblivious to the situation, his nose buried into his newly acquired comic, her daughter began asking questions. “What the hell is going on?” she said glancing out the car window. The infected people terrorized the neighborhood; many gave up and fled their homes. “Just be quiet please dear, now is not the time to ask questions!” her mother responded. “But, but where the hell are we even going?!” she barked at her mother, she didn’t respond, instead speeding down the road and out of the suburban neighborhood. She began driving towards the D.C skyline and into the city.
As she drove onto the freeway, towards the city area, the group descended upon amasses of cars, blocking the way in a huge jam. In fact, many were leaving the city, not entering it. The car grinded to a halt ahead of the oncoming traffic, the mother turned to face her daughter, a look of despair on both their faces. She spoke in a trembling whisper, “If I don’t come back, you go into the countryside, you find some place nice to hide with your brother and stay safe okay?” as she pressed a Smith & Wesson model 64 handgun into her daughters hands. She gave her a reassuring nod and ran into the masses of traffic.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” She yelped out to a white haired man in his late 50’s, outside his car. “What’s going on in the city?” She asked. The man shook his head, replying in anguish; “Those things are everywhere… the police are trying to contain them but hell there’s thousands of them. The cities in chaos, doesn’t help with the heaven project doors being located around the city, now everyone wants to get in! It ain’t worth getting torn apart by those freak people anyway.” She gazed at him, rubbed her brow stressfully and began racing down the road.
What she was presented with was something akin to a horror movie. Armored police units were driving the infected masses out of the city… and onto the road. People began fleeing, but the enraged humans did not seem to experience any exhaust, and constantly sped after their prey, many falling and surrounded by multiple of these monsters. Cars whizzed past her and collisions in the midst of the turmoil occurred. She leapt into the car and as she closed the car door, a ragged man sank his teeth into her arm. In panic her daughter yelled out and fired a fatal shot to the man’s face, he dropped to the ground lifeless.
Her breath grew heavy, tears rolled down her eyes and she turned to face her children. “I’m so so sorry my babies… I’m so very sorry. Mommy, mommy has to go now and she can’t come back.” She spluttered her words, choking back tears. Her daughter reiterated the tears; her son just gazed in confusion at the pair. “Where are you going mommy?” He questioned, to which she replied. “Mommy’s going to heaven now sweetie, with the angels. So I’ll be able to watch over you all the time.” He nodded in acceptance, burying his face back into the comic book. 
She left the car and approached the oncoming horde; the car began bumbling off into the distance. She was enveloped by the enraged monsters; the throbbing pain began to subside as she lost control of her motor skills, falling into massive muscle fit.









Presidential Metro, Washington D.C 21st September, 6:59 AM
The bullet akin train came to a halt almost instantly from its high speed whizz at the group of officials. A man with round wire glasses, dressed neatly in a blue suit and a pork pie hat inquired in a soft British accent; “So you ensure me and my family a place in D.C’s heaven?” A heavily decorated army officer simply nodded, pulling an officers cap over his balding head and exiting up the stairs. A bulky Asian man in a black suit and equipped with a blue tooth argued civilly with a petite woman adorned with a lab coat and thick rimmed glasses, crimson red hair tied in a messy bun. She beseeched to him calmly: “I know that the security of this countries officials are your highest priority, but you can’t just lock them up and let them starve to death. Infected or not they’re still human beings and this is inhumane!” The bulky man shook his head and elucidated to her. “I understand, but we just can’t afford to waste any ammunition or oil on their disposal, we have enough trouble as it is keeping the damn public in check.” He exited before she could protest any further, in turn she stomped down the corridor.
The neatly dressed man clambered onto the train, offering a soft salute to the men waiting inside. “Mr. President.” He greeted the president politely, sitting down beside him. “Ah, Mr. Rothschild, it’s my pleasure.” The president counter-greeted him. The train began speeding down the railway, a soft hum coming from the powerful magnetic motors. It came again to a halt, the four people aboard the train filed out and exited up the stairs, first the presidents two hefty security guards, armed with assault carbines, followed by the president and finally Mr. Rothschild.
They filed into a small room. A control panel sat below a map of the earth. A lone scientist was the only other person present in the room. He remained silent. The president and Mr. Rothschild entered, the two security guards waited by the door. Mr. Rothschild bypassed multiple levels of security on the control panel and the security, clicking a key into control panel and flicking open a box, a small black button beneath. He turned back to the president, the president nodding once.
He pushed down on the button, files of lines from multiple places across the U.S.A and Canada zoomed across the screen, stopping at places in China, Russia, Japan and the middle-east. Shortly after, more lines filed across from western European countries, Brazil and Australia. The president exited the room, Mr. Rothschild followed eagerly, but was halted by the two security guards. “I’m sorry, but the president has told us you will not be leaving with him to heaven.” They explained coolly. He staggered backwards at loss for words. “I… was told.” “There simply is no room.” His jaw agape, he consolidated his thoughts and nodded. “My wife and my children at least, please let them in.” The guard whispered to the other then nodded. “Yes, but you cannot. You must understand you were the catalyst for this and we cannot allow such a person into heaven.” He nodded, and they left.
He approached the control panel again, rage consuming him he flailed atop the control panel, although the reinforced titanium took little damage from his assault, slinking onto the floor, he was reduced to tears. The trembling scientist swiveled around on his chair. “They did the same to me, you know, promising me a place in heaven. Hell it might not even be real!” He babbled on hectically. “You know, we can fuck them over. Get the enemy to launch the warheads before they can close the heaven doors.” Mr. Rothschild sobbed continually; “Hundreds of millions… billions of lives. This is the end of the world don’t you see?!” The scientist scoffed; stumbling over to the control panel he unlocked the box containing the phone and dialed a number. “Dukov, they did it. Launch ‘em back.” The two glared at the map, in the next few minutes multiple lines began filing back across the screen, dotting themselves towards Brazil, the U.S, Canada, Australia, the U.K and France.
The L’enfant plaza was consumed with chaos, he pushed his way calmly past looters, hooligans, scurrying civilians and police officers attempting futilely to keep order. Smoke trails from the exiting warheads patterned the sky.
He stumbled into the open fields of the national mall, thousands of protesters were present, a heaven entrance present on the grounds. He walked past the protesters, approaching the capitol building. Although evacuated, a heavy security presence remained on site. He approached the police commander and mentioned coolly. “There are warheads coming for the U.S, the enemy retaliated.” He tossed his 9A security clearance file to the startled commander, marching past now fleeing security police.
Rothschild rose to the top of the capitol building. He clambered out onto the roof, snapped open a beach chair and lay down in it gingerly, sighing in relief. He popped open a crystalline fanciful bottle of aged bourbon, pouring it generously into a glass. He drew a copper pocket watch, snapped it open and laying it beside him, the time reading: 10:42 AM. A rain of black dots appeared in the distance. He downed the glass of bourbon and stood from the chair, pressing his palms to his chest and reciting the Lord’s Prayer, the warheads quickly approaching D.C. He glared down at the city as people darted for safety, helicopters and planes dove from the city.
The first warheads hit a few miles north of the capitol building. A rain of explosions across the skyline deafened and blinded him. The scorching blast wave consumed him.