The End Times
A cold breeze, an acrid stench in the air.
The spirit of this city had long since died. Despair was tangible here. The dilapidated buildings with broken windows reminded one of the skulls of so many that had passed on in this hellhole.
He walked through the outskirts of this place, a long tattered coat gently swaying. The rest of his attire was modest at best, a poor looking T-shirt, worn jeans, scuffed boots, and a cowboy hat that had seen much better days. The only decent article that he wore was a black katana at his side. His face resembled leather and possessed a sandpaper quality, if one were to ever touch it. A dark scar ran from the right temple to the left cheek.
Strolling through the ruins of a once great metropolis the sounds of grinding, growling, sobbing are all carried on the wind.
“Is it the same everywhere?” he mumbled as he crossed over rubble, broken boards, and human remains. Venturing further into the city, the sounds became louder and resembled demonic cackling with the occasional scream or groan. As he happened upon a building that seemed to be somewhat hospitable, he saw them. Crazed wild eyes, spittle lining their mouths, they resembled rabid animals but were human. At least, they used to be until everything went to hell. Some people could not keep their sanity, and they ended up like these poor bastards. Forming groups and reverting back to most aspects of savagery, they preyed on those who managed to survive with their humanity intact.
A group of people, ones that were still sane, were crowed together in a makeshift pen. By no means could it hold anyone, but with constant surveillance, escape was not an option.
He watched as they jerked a man from the group, the others stayed silent for they knew that protesting would just hasten their own apparent destiny. The man was clubbed about with sticks and pummeled with fists. Beaten into a pulp he was torn apart and eaten alive. The rest of the group looked on in disgust and fear, food was scarce as it was and these crazed people were taking advantage of an easy food source.
The man walked up to this pack of demon-like people and without hesitation and in the blink of an eye beheaded the first one he reached. He looked right into the eyes of the slain man and as the final seconds of life ticked away there was a very human fear there. He made short work of the rest of the group, it was similar to killing animals, but much more grotesque when they still carried a human shape. A flick to clear blood from the sword and with a click it was back in the sheath. He was immediately surrounded by the grateful captives; they called out, “Hero! Our Savior!”
He sighed and started walking again, leaving them all behind confused and free.
Hero, they said? Savior? No, I’m a murderer and nothing more. I lived a normal life until all of this, never touched a weapon. Funny how I became a killer of men so quickly. I am nobody’s hero.
Well, there ya have it. Sorry it was a bit late but I was catching up on sleep.
~Zoo
