Darkness (Henry)

Chapter 1

A deafening cry came through the middle of the night. It replayed in his dreams and all throughout the days. Henry couldn't seem to control it; like an unwanted whisper that seeps into his ears even when he wasn't thinking about what had happened. It's been 7 months and he's been haunted since. All over the world ashes from the burning cities floated around like a never-ending snowfall.

Ever since the apocalypse epidemic broke out and people began falling dead to the ground from a terrible disease, it seemed like there would never be an end to this hellish nightmare. All Henry could do to keep himself from becoming like one of them, was to fly solo. Staying with other survivors equaled the same thing as waving a big sign above your head that says, "Here is a lot of fresh meat! Here we are! So come 'n' get us!" It was when people began to cough and then bleed from every hole that the virus would take control and then proceed to kill nearly everyone on the planet; Henry knew that the only option was to run and never stop. He knew there was nothing else he could do, because staying in one place for too long meant certain death, like a wish. He couldn't believe this was happening, for it was just too much for him to take in, and nothing could control it or help make it stop...

As the skies grew dark with little shiny bright stars and partial clouds, Henry knew that he had to find shelter as soon as possible. Hefting his backpack over his shoulders, he sought cover in a nearby hotel. Stepping inside the building as it began to rain, he took the stairs to the top and silently eased inside an open room. But he heard a sound then, like a helpless plea, as soon as he shut the door. He couldn't place where in the room it came from. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he took slow, careful steps, farther into the room. A struggling gurgling-like noise came from the bathroom then, making Henry raise his pistol up in defense automatically, getting on guard. As he peeked into the dimly-lit bathroom, he saw an infected chewing on the bloody torn flesh of it's recently-killed meal. Henry's thoughts swam into a blur as a little recorded voice of a toy from his memories trailed into his head:

"One...Two...Three! Little Plane has reached the airport!" And as the number three sounded in his head, the chewed-up body stood up, shaking violently and groaning as it came to its new life, & with a new appetite.

Stepping away slowly, Henry licked his lips nervously as he stared directly at the infected bodies. When the dead flesh stood, it made him flinch involuntarily. They were vile: legs twisted, mouth hanging ajar, bones cracking everywhere...and Henry was trapped. Unless...looking back at the door he first entered through, he gulped as he fought the urge to just turn and run. But just as that thought ran through his mind, he knew that that wouldn't be the smartest thing to do—It would only attract those two bloody, flea-bitten, rotting flesh-consuming bastards, and set them on his trail for hours.

Henry was almost out of ammo, and the saber that he carried on his back with straps that crossed over his chest in an 'x' to hold it, was dull from cutting through the heads of rotting flesh for so many days in a row. His rations had gotten low too, and he had no water to help his stamina and stability if he had to fight them off. He has been on his own for ten days, but since the apocalypse broke out 7 months ago causing nearly everybody to die, Henry knew that he'd survive longer if he stayed as a one-man army. But then there were times that the thought of being alone for the rest of his life would creep into the back of his mind. It made him wonder if anybody else could still be alive. He couldn't be the last one, could he? And even if not, it could take him years to find another living, breathing, real human being like him in this dead, burning world.

As he continued stepping backwards slowly, he flinched when he felt a squeaky toy depress from underneath his foot suddenly; and when it squeaked, the two un-godly infected snapped their heads around at him in a 180 degree turn. Bleh. Then, as he reached for the door handle, the floor groaning underneath his feet, and that's when they screeched at him. "Ah, shit."