From the smoke and fire

An old man staggers his way through the city in the dead of night, coughing and sputtering as he attempts to hurry down the street. By now it should be pitch black but flickering flames dance throughout the district. Greedy fires steal homes, businesses and lives as they send out thick black smoke to reach for the stars in the sky. A chorus of sobbing strangers and screaming denizens wrung out from all directions.

As he got to the door of an unremarkable city house. He propped himself up against the wall, catching his breath as he prayed to his god. His face was wrinkly and tanned, partially covered up by a sooty grey beard. His eyes were blue as the sea and despite being old he still had all the muscle of a labourer. A fisherman by trade, he used his waning strength to thrust his shoulder into the door, knocking it clean off its hinges but causing him to stumble over it on the floor, landing on his hands and knees inside the building.

As the light from outside flooded the room and from under the table he could see the posts of a single bed. The man would scurry his way over to the bed on his hands and knees. Knocking over the table and a few chairs in the process.

The loud bang led to an eruption of tears, a woman shot up from the bed and reached to her side scooping up a baby of no more than 5 months old. She'd attempt to hush the baby rocking it in her arms.

She flinched as she felt something brush past her foot, looking up she saw a dark figure pulling itself up towards her bed through the backdrop of her broken door. She held her baby tight, quickly shuffling herself back to the headboard of her bed, knocking her head against the wall.

"Sally!"

The figure would speak in a raspy voice, one instantly recognisable by the woman.

"Dad?"

She replied, her father now making his way round the side of her bed grabbing her by the wrist.

"We've got to go pickle, the city's on fire!"

He dragged her to her feet, baby still in her arms.

"Dad, stop. I need to get some clothes on."

He'd look apprehensive, coming to a conclusion in his head. After his moment of thought, looking at his daughter and his grandson then looking down to see himself in his own night clothes. He'd make his decision.

"There's no time, something bad is happening. We've gotta get out of here."

Before stepping out of the house Grandad would poke his head out to scan the length of the road. He'd grab his daughter by the arm and would proceed to swiftly head off down the street. The smell was repulsive, a mixture between charred bricks and an unnerving metallic odour.

The mother in shock, homes of friends ablaze and burnt out shop fronts which she visited days prior. There were little signs of people nearby, just distant screams.

Suddenly Grandad put his hand out in front of his daughter. The screams were getting closer, a man stumbled out from a nearby alleyway, hobbling on a broken leg. As his fibula jutted out of his skin he moaned in pain, every step almost unbearable.

He'd turn to look behind himself, the alleyway glowed with a powerful red light. He began to cry and plead as bright red flames emerged from the alley. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. The fire had almost serpent like quality, it writhed like a mess of tentacles towards its incapacitated victim. When it reached him it would climb up his legs causing his knees to buckle knocking him face first to the ground.

The two would look on in horror as the flames consumed him, eventually he'd stop making noise and from the alleyway came another worrying presence. He walked across the fire, a demon dressed purely in black, his skin red under the glow of the fire. For the most part he looked human with a face you've probably seen hundreds of times before. He'd seemed emotionless looking down on the charred remains of his victim.

Before he could turn his head, Grandad had wrapped his arm around his daughter and pulled her down the nearest crossroad hoping that that thing hadn't seen them. A loud boom echoed through the streets sending the baby into another crying fit.

Desperately the mother tried putting her hand over the baby's mouth, a tear rolling down her cheek as she made shushing noises and cradled it in her arms.

Grandad had gone off ahead, now scouting to see if its safe to let his daughter and grandson follow him. He could only manage to breath shallow breaths, resting up against a wall on the edge of the road.

Having managed to calm the child she caught up to her ailing father also panting, she too would press herself up against the wall where she had a brilliant view down the outcropping road.

This road was clearly different as it was entirely devoid of the fire that covered every other street. Instead it looked almost as if it had been abandoned for decades. Thick foliage was growing out of the paving on the street and tendrils of wooden roots snaked out through the houses, reclaiming the buildings for nature. You couldn't see the sky from this street as a canopy of leaves and ivy had formed over the roofs of the houses. 

Her eyes went wide and she began to tremble.

Hanging from vines, impaled by wooden spikes were people. Citizens and friends of the woman. She noticed her local postman; blood dripping from his mouth. The baker; hanging by his neck from a vine. A doctor who worked on her ward when she was pregnant with roots protruding from his eye holes.

Just before the jungle was another alleyway. She'd look over to her father who had only just picked his gaze up from the floor spitting on the floor. She began running out into the street, followed swiftly by her father.

The roads were much wider than the back alleys where she lived, looking out towards the jungle she'd notice that the wooden tentacles were moving. The plants came to life with dreams of a new victim. In a cruel gamble they would have to run towards the growths in order to get down the next alley.

As the roots drew closer they continued to run, Grandad coughing and wheezing at the back. He chased his daughter down the street when he suddenly spotted the ground moving below her feet.

It took only a second but to a father it felt like a lifetime. A living root burst from the ground cutting through the mother like a spear and thrusting her body into a brick wall. He ran to try and aid his daughter who was still clutching her child in her arms. Her eyes unmoving as the old man used his tremendous strength to pull the root from her body.

The baby began to cry again, buried deep in the embrace of his mother. Grandad would pry the baby from her and take one last look at his daughter before running off down the alleyway that she so nearly made it to.

He was overcome with sorrow but with the inherited determination he was going to save the baby. Suddenly his breathing didn't seem like such a problem. Neither did the burning of his calves from continued running, he could barely hear the whinging of the child in his arms as he came out onto another street.

This street was fiery, a welcomed change from the alternative. He'd look up to the sky catching a glimpse of something horrific tickling the clouds. It was a colossal tree, growing rapidly in the middle of the city, no leaves because as quick as the tree could grow the fire would spread over its bark raining embers down from its branches.

The image was almost biblical, as if God had set out to make an example of this city. He'd turn from its ire and take off down the road. Every building was abandoned with its inhabitants either escaping or being killed in the chaos. He'd pass the church he used to attend every Sunday when from its doors another monster would burst free.

It would cackle with glee, A woman dressed in a wedding dress stained black by the smoke and the soot. She had cracked black lips over which would hang a long dagger like nose. Flames danced around behind her providing a silhouette for her messy black hair.

She'd look towards the old man, pointing a long bony finger towards the child in his arms. She smiled to reveal crooked teeth before lunging towards Grandad. He took off sprinting with the maniac giggling like a child behind him and whilst she wasn't fast her movements were erratic, stumbling as she ran, taking uneven strides and veering left and right at random.

She was toying with him, making fun of the old man who was now struggling to run. His body had caught up to him and was beginning to fail him. Despite the chaos he managed to recognise where he was, a half burnt sign landmarked a sweet shop he used to take his daughter to when she was little.

He darted around a corner and found himself on the main road, the gates to the city dead ahead. The screams and moans of the damned served as a symphony to the chase, between a man with one last thing to cling on to and a monster without reason.

The street was littered with corpses and survivors who had been trapped and mangled under debris. Faceless victims of a tragedy, blurred by the haste of an old man determined not to outlive his grandson too.

The monster picked up speed, seemingly getting bored of just toying with the old man. Yelling all kinds of abuse at the one who would dare to get away. He was exhausted and running out of options so he decided it would be best to turn around and deal with the monster himself.

He stopped suddenly, gently setting the baby down in a burlap sack in a horse cart. The baby immediately began to cry but acting in its best interests Grandad ignored its pleas in order to raise his fists and get ready to fight the twisted woman.

She pounced at him like a rabid dog, her fingers topped by sharp claws. He'd grab at her arm, using the momentum to carry her through catching his cheek on the way. He'd then ram his fist into her gut. Pushing her over his shoulder, his gaze fixed to her at all times, he'd watch her stumble using her arms to push off against the pavement and swiftly return to her feet.

Before she turned to face him again perhaps worried by his brute strength she reached into one of the tears in her dress.

The old man both impatient and afraid, lunged towards the woman but before he could tackle her to the ground she revealed a small steel dagger which she plunged into his left arm.

Momentum sent the two crashing into debris, the old man falling on his right arm. He felt a tinge, his shoulder injured but only a doctor could tell him how badly. With no immediate solution and surging pain in both arms he had no option but to try to get back up.

The woman didn't have much luck herself, a chunk of broken wood had impaled her ankle but her face left no indication of discomfort. She'd pull herself from the debris still holding on to the dagger only to buckle and fall to her knees. The old man not far away, jeered on by the cries of his grandson pushed against the ground with both arms returning to his feet.

The old man wasn't quick enough however as the woman, enraged, pulled the debris from her ankle. Tossing it to the ground she'd attempt to get up again and this time she'd succeed.

Their eyes would meet, careful not to spend too long nursing their wounds lest they'd become the victim of the more abled. With the city burning down around them, they'd charge once again.

 Despite the state of his right arm he'd use it to grab at the woman's neck, her blade puncturing his side as he pulled her to the air. As he looked up at her he noticed, her nose still pours out smoke.

As she choked she'd let out a smothered laugh, looking down on the old man. Her mouth opened to reveal black teeth and grey gums and within an instant thick black smoke surge from her mouth enveloping the old man's head. It cooked his flesh as if he was on fire, causing him to yell out in pain and for his grip to tighten on her throat.

In an accumulation of 70 years of toiling on fishing boats, lifting boxes meant for horse drawn carts he'd crush her windpipe before falling to the floor one last time.

The stream of smoke bleed dry as the woman attempted to gasp for air, she writhed as her body panicked. It wasn't long before she went limp and right next to her flopped to the floor was the old man, nothing but bones from the neck up, his tissue dissolved by the smoke.

It took two days for word to get out about the tragedy and then neighbouring town of Docksford sent out a unit of 53 young men to search for survivors. In a search that lasted days only one survivor was found. A baby, crying muffled by its sore throat, was found wrapped in a burlap sack on the back of an abandoned cart.