The Birth of the New World

-Chapter IV-

Heading South

I probably should have waited till the next morning to leave and burn down my fucking house. Are the thoughts that go through my head as I walk down the road.

The sun is already starting to set, and I have only been walking for a couple hours now. I could have stayed another night, but the smell from the basement was already escaping and starting to spread through the rest of the house.

That horrible smell and the changes to my body might have made me a bit brash in my decision-making back there.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a freaking idiot…”

Plodding onward down the road, my bare feet lightly slapping against damp asphalt, I look around for a suitable spot to hunker down for the night. I have no idea how strong or dangerous I am now that I am mutated, if at all, but I am not risking traveling at night.

Things that make mutated dogs look cute come out at night, and I want nothing to do with them. Swarms of giant bats as big as children, raccoons that seem to meld with the shadows, and cats.

What used to be the domestic cat is now slinking, stealthy, terrors that will hunt anything they can get their claws on. The only thing you see before they attack is a pair of glowing eyes, peering at you from the darkness.

Besides the mutated animals there are the monsters. A particularly strong memory I have of monsters is of one I saw while peeking out of a window during a long hunting trip. It was walking past our camp on long stilt-like legs. Four limbs carried its small bulbous body, moving froward like it was gliding across the forest floor. It easily stood at eight meters tall, and each move of its leg was accompanied by the sound of creaking wood as if its limbs were made from the trunks of trees.

We didn’t shine a light on it, but even in the darkness I could tell that it was not something of natural biology. Almost as if a group of trees had decided to get up and walk away. If it were to stand still, we would have never of even known it was there.

My father and I held our breaths as we waited for it to pass, its very appearance was something that had no business existing in our reality.

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts of that thing. My excessively long hair shaking and swaying with my head, a few strands moving back in front of my face.

With a huff I run my fingers through my hair and try to get it back under control. Even after drying and brushing my hair, it is still a mess wanting to go all over the place.

I always kept my hair at about shoulder length, but even if I didn’t take care of it, it wouldn’t act up like this. Why my mutation did this to my hair is simply beyond me.

I should have cut my hair before leaving. I’m an idiot. Its official, I’m a fucking idiot. I went scavenging on my own and nearly died. I burned down my house like some edgy protagonist and I didn’t even bother to cut my hair!

“Hah… calm down Lain. Calm down. I’ll just cut it when I make camp for tonight. At least I’m finally on my way to my family. I could still be stuck in bed sick. Or dead…”

I continue walking, putting one foot in front of the other. The light padding of my bare feet and sound of wind flowing through tree branches are the background noise of my adventure.

My tail lazily sways back and forth with each step while I play with the claws on my hands. Clicking each one as I run one claw against the others like a stick against the bars of a fence.

After a couple hours of walking with only my thoughts to keep me company. I reach the point of were residential meets town. Houses mingle with businesses and an under construction [now to never be finished] apartment complex stands tall and opened up like the skeletal remains of a leviathan. Trees and other plant life now happily spread their roots through its open walls and exposed floors as they seemingly compete to see who can claim the top floors first.

It doesn’t take long before I decide on an old bar to crash in for the night. No large windows to let in the elements, and brick and mortar walls that seem to have held up well enough through the end of the world so far.

Drawing my knife, I creep up to the door. It hangs half open on one hinge, leaning into the building like a drunk man trying to keep his balance.

Sliding up against the wall I peek inside. It’s pitch-black inside, with night coming there is hardly any light coming into the building. But my new night vision makes it trivial to see inside the building.

Tables and chairs are flipped and laying about in pieces, the bar has an entire section that has completely collapsed as if something very large crashed into it. Shattered glass from bottles and glasses cover the floor and small layer of dust coats all the nearby surfaces.

Crouching down, I examine the entrance and focus on my hearing and try to see if I can sense anything inside. After a minute of waiting the only sounds I hear is that of my own breathing and the roars of thunder off in the distance. This building is probably abandoned.

With no obvious signs of anyone or anything using this building, I slide my way in through the door and start working my way towards the door in the back that probably leads to the kitchen.

Carefully I place one foot after the other, making sure to avoid shards of glass and broken pieces of furniture. I have to forcefully stop myself from marveling at just how quietly I am able to walk now, reminding myself that there could still be something in here.

Getting behind the bar I am greeted by a pair of skeletons holding each other. They are quite mangled, most likely torn apart by whatever busted down the door. The bones have long since been picked clean, leaving only cracked open white ivory exposed to the open air. Probably roaches or other scavengers.

Please don’t let there be any roaches left here.

Ignoring the bones, a regretfully common sight these days, I move further in and push open the kitchen door. It’s a simple swinging door that doesn’t even have a knob or any locks.

Cracking the door open with one hand, I hold my knife close and peek in through. I don’t see anything immediately out of the ordinary. Counters with old appliances, a big sink for dishes, and storage shelves with ripped open boxes and bags. Their contents having been long since eaten or scattered and rotting on the floor.

Deciding that the room is clear, I walk in through the door and head further in. It’s when I’m going towards a corner that has seemingly been turned into a little office, that I hear some shuffling and clicking behind me.

Spinning on the spot, I hold up my knife and try to spot the source of the noise. Nothing is moving. Despite it being pitch black in here I see everything clearly. The counters, the sink, the large freezer door, and the shelf of spilt boxes.

Nothing is moving, but I remain on guard, refusing to move for a solid minute as I wait for whatever it was to make a noise again.

As I’m about to relax, reasoning that it was just my imagination, I hear the clicking noises again. Snapping my attention to where I heard it, I see one of the boxes on the floor move a bit.

“Shit…” I quietly curse to myself.

Slowly I move towards the box, my knife held outward ready to swat away anything that might jump out at me.

About a meter away from the box, I hear fluttering of wings and the clicking of insectile limbs. With one more step the box is thrown aside as a dark object launches itself at me with frightening speed.

“EEEEhhhh!” With a scream, I swing my knife at the unspeakable horror and smack it aside with a solid ‘Thwack!’

Hitting the wall with a slap, the creature falls on its back where it proceeds to beat its wings in an attempt to right itself. Quickly, before it can flip itself over, I rush over and bring my knife down on its underbelly.

With a disgusting crunch and squelch, the knife pierces through its lower carapace and pierces through its back.

The horrid ‘little’ creature lets out a pained hiss as its many legs kick and skitter about in every direction, looking for any surface that they can latch onto.

“Euhh, euhh, euhh! Just die already!” I say as I lift the blade and fling it around, trying to dislodge the hissing abomination.

With a solid swing it finally slides off from the blade and flies across the room, smacking into the shelves and knocking down more boxes.

Still hissing like a boiling over kettle, I start to approach to try and finish it off, when I notice that some of the other boxes are shifting and moving.

I freeze on the spot, still mid step.

From the other corner of the room, dark shapes crawl out from hidden crevasses. From beneath counters and under piles of crap.

They all vary in size, from about that of a quarter to being big enough to wrestle a house cat. Pouring out of their hiding places like a plague, the little black devils swarm their way towards me like a moving shadow.

Cockroaches, fucking cockroaches!

“Oh, HELL NO!” I screamed, and immediately bolt back the way I came. Slamming through the swinging door I sprint through the bar. Vaulting over the bar counter in a single jump, kicking aside tables and chairs, crushing my way through shattered glass bottles.

“NOPE, NOPE, NOPE NOPE NOPE!!!”

My entire retreat is filled with the sound of buzzing wings and the hissing of pissed off roaches. I refuse to look back as I run, fearing that I’ll see a dark cloud of nope hot on my heels.

With all of my strength I grab the front door and slam it shut behind me. Moments later, as I hold the door shut with a death grip, a series of hundreds of clangs and slaps echo across the old door as an army of super roaches’ slam headfirst into it.

As white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf, I back away from the door. Not wanting to see if the door will hold, I turn around and sprint down the street as fast as my legs will take me.

I don’t want to be anywhere near that building when those things inevitably find a way out.

I continue sprinting; buildings, trees, and abandoned vehicles fly past me as I move down the road. Adrenaline and shear disgust compelling me to run as far away as I can from the newly discovered hellhole.

Once I finally stop running, I am far away from the bar, much further into town.

Hopping up and down in place, I wipe my body down with my hands, trying to knock off imaginary bugs crawling all over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

“Ah, ewh ewh ewh! I hate roaches! Why the hell do they have to get so big?! Why the hell can they fly?! Ah, I hate this!” I complain loudly as I try to get my nerves back under control.

Looking up I see that the sun has dipped even lower in the sky, the storm clouds having also grown much larger and closer.

“I need to find shelter.” I tell myself.

Looking around I find an old bookstore. The display window is busted in, a yellow Mustang having crashed through it and stopped halfway into the store. But I can’t be too picky about camping sites with night being less than an hour away.

At least there shouldn’t be any roaches in a bookstore, right?

With as much determination as I can gather, I move into the store and check it over for any current residents. The building is thankfully clear, so I decide to make a small camp for myself in the back of the store and settle in for the night.