Ricky

Ricky had always been a man who trusted his instincts, and they were now screaming that the world was hurtling toward disaster.

It all began with a dream, a vivid nightmare that haunted his waking hours.

Sitting on a weathered bench somewhere deep within the dimly lit New York subway system, he accidentally fell into a fitful slumber. In the depths of his subconscious mind, he bore witness to a cataclysmic vision—an onslaught of explosions that razed cities to the ground and an ancient, malevolent comet hurtling menacingly toward Earth. Its fiery tail painted the sky with an eerie, sickly green hue. Yet, the most horrifying aspect of the dream was the skeletal monster that emerged from the comet's heart.

Even as he recalled the dream, Ricky shuddered involuntarily. It was more than a nightmare; it was a prophecy of doom etched into his very soul. That being from the comet was pure evil, its eyes holding nothing but endless hate and malice for all life. It wished for nothing but destruction and chaos.

After that fateful night, Ricky was consumed by fear and an unshakable sense of foreboding. He reached out to his friends and family, desperate to share the premonition that gripped him. He wanted to warn them, to urge them to prepare for the impending calamity. But, to his dismay, they dismissed his words as the ramblings of a madman. They scoffed at his visions, thinking he was crazy.

As days turned into weeks and then months, Ricky found himself isolated and abandoned. The very people he had hoped to protect had turned their backs on him. Friends drifted away, family distanced themselves, and he was left utterly alone.

And the nightmares persisted, becoming more vivid and detailed as the day of unholy reckoning drew near. He began to hear the horrendous screams of men, women, and children writhing in agony under intense heat and radiation. He began to feel his skin corrode as the comet hit the earth, and his soul, torn from his body as that awful creature watched humanity's suffering with unhidden glee.

Ricky had long shed his concern for social approval or companionship. Survival had become his singular obsession. He was determined to defy fate, to outwit the impending catastrophe, and to emerge unscathed from the ashes.

With unwavering resolve, he purchased a secluded plot of land in the rugged countryside of upstate New York. There, far from the chaos of the city, he began construction on a fortified bunker. Every decision was made with meticulous care, as he outfitted it with the latest technology—a complex solar power system, advanced water filtration, and provisions to last a lifetime.

Ricky's life savings, accumulated over two decades of work as a banker, were poured into his vision of an impenetrable sanctuary. It was not a matter of if disaster would strike; it was a matter of when.

Finally, after four years of relentless effort and ceaseless dedication, Ricky's preparations bore fruit. The world around him began to crumble, and the disasters he had foreseen unfolded with terrifying accuracy.

First came the explosions—a catastrophic event in the heart of New York City. The government labeled it a "nuclear bomb," but Ricky knew better. He had glimpsed the puppeteer orchestrating this apocalypse, and it was something far more sinister than a mere bomb. The resulting nuclear war engulfed the world, leaving a bleak landscape of devastation.

The news referred to this dark era as the "Great Mushroom War," named after the shape of the dust clouds that hung over the ruined cities. But Ricky harbored a deeper truth—a gnawing suspicion that a malevolent force was pulling the strings from the shadows.

As the war raged on, humanity was reduced to fractured remnants, scattered across a desolate wasteland. And then, just when it seemed that the world could suffer no more, another calamity struck—a colossal blue comet, hurtling from the depths of space, crashed into the Earth.

The impact was cataclysmic, carving out a crater so vast that it devoured two entire continents. Ricky, far from the epicenter, felt the ground tremble beneath him as the world itself convulsed in agony.

With the comet's arrival, the last remnants of communication were shattered. Satellites fell from the sky, radio towers fell silent, and civilization plunged into a profound and irreversible darkness.

Amid the chaos and destruction, Ricky clung to his bunker, his solitary haven. He couldn't stay there forever though. He needed to eventually return to the surface to see what was left of the world he once knew.

He waited until six months had passed after the comet landed and the entire earth trembled before finally ascending the metal ladder located in the center of his bunker. Ricky opened the air-tight metal hatch and emerged from his underground home outfitted in a full hazmat suit. He had a large bag packed full of supplies slung over his shoulder and carried in his hands a fully automatic, military-grade assault rifle that would have gotten him arrested if it weren't for the apocalypse.

The first thing Ricky noticed upon leaving his bunker was the lack of greenery. The trees were stripped bare, their trunks rotted and twisted. Any shrubbery, underbrush, or other plant life had long died and dried out, coating the ground in a gooey brown film.

He had expected it, but still, thinking about how this place would have looked during this time of year, Ricky couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss. "Dammit Ricky, get it together," he berated himself.

He let his assault rifle hang from the leather strap he had it tied to and took out a map and compass from his bag. The goal of this expedition was to gather information and look for survivors. Ricky wished he could simply forgo all human contact and stay perfectly sane, but he knew himself, and that wasn't the case. Plus, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if there were people out here dying, and he didn't do something to help them.

The first place he would check was going to be Albany. From there, he would head to New York City. Albany was his hometown, so he wanted to check and see if anyone he used to know was still alive. As for New York City, it was the source of this whole mess, not to mention its high population.

Looking at the map, then at the compass, Ricky turned East. "First stop, Albany," he grumbled to himself, his deep voice heavily muffled by the hazmat suit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why did I come here again?" Ricky whispered, his back pressed against a wall as the door in front of him rocked wildly on its hinges, groaning and moaning emanating from the other side, accompanied by the shuffling of many feet.

He had arrived in Albany a week earlier and ventured deep into the city's ruins in a relatively uneventful fashion. However, aside from the charred remains of corpses and crumbling buildings, he couldn't find much else. It was only when he was hunting at night on the sixth day and shot a rabbit that things took a turn for the worse.

Those lifeless bodies he thought were beyond recognition began to move on their own, oozing an ominous green goop as they clawed, stumbled, or in some cases, sprinted towards him. While some might attribute their sudden reanimation to radiation, Ricky knew better. The sickly green goo was far too reminiscent in both color and essence of that first explosion. It was the doing of that malevolent monster from the comet.

The 'zombies,' as he reluctantly labeled them (what else could they be), emerged from all directions, crawling out of the rubble like a swarm of relentless insects. Their dreadful moans and the eerie sounds of their decaying limbs snapping, cracking, and popping as they moved drowned out every other noise, causing an invisible hand to grip Ricky's heart and threaten to pull it right out of his throat.

He had to escape before their numbers overwhelmed him entirely. Ricky began firing wildly, his unsteady aim causing most of the bullets to miss their mark, but a fortunate few struck down some of the undead creatures as he scrambled to retreat.

Over cars, through broken walls, and beneath collapsed traffic lights, he ran, making a mad dash towards freedom. But the relentless pursuit of the zombies proved to be too much.

Ricky was eventually forced to seek refuge in a suburban home. He barricaded the doors and windows and took refuge in one of the second-floor bedrooms, locking the door tightly. He had initially attempted the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, but it was locked. So, instead, he found himself holed up in the guest bedroom across the hall.

Seeing as the noise had quieted and he was alone in silence, Ricky decided to take some much-needed rest.

While sleeping, he dreamed of a blue comet, its calm, serene presence completely juxtaposing the previous green one. He dreamed of a man, his appearance obscured in shadow, beating back the evil that pervaded the land and saving those in need. He saw that man's form overlap with that of what could only be described as a Lovecraftian Outer God, its countless visages fusing with one another in a dance of unending wrath and agony. 

...Only to awaken to the sound of zombies at the door, furiously clawing and banging on its rickety wooden frame, desperately trying to get inside. A few had even managed to reach the bedroom's window on the second story, shattering the glass and now tearing at the wooden boards he had hastily nailed down to cover it.

It was only a matter of time before they broke through, and Ricky was trapped. All he could do was wait and pray. Pray that they would lose interest, pray that someone, anyone, would come to his rescue, and perhaps even pray that some divine being would take pity on his dire situation and intervene...

A/N: Can anyone guess why Ricky is significant enough to deserve his own chapter? He is an OC of my own creation, mind you, and will be playing a vital role throughout the entirety of the story.