Chapter One
The Apocalypse
Haven City.
A city were dreams had once come true. A place which had once been the most tranquil place on Earth. A place which had been full of normal people, going about their normal lives, going to their normal work, coming home to their normal house, eating a normal dinner and going to sleep in their normal beds.
Haven City was no longer like that.
Haven City was now a place where dreams were destroyed, as well as their dreamers. It was now a place swamped in utter chaos. It was now a place where people either died excruciatingly painful deaths or lived excruciatingly painful lives.
Haven City was now a hell-hole, and there was no way out.
The man reflected on his past life as he stumbled through the abandoned streets. Every time he heard a sound, he would turn and point his pistol in the direction the sound had come from. He was scared, and he was alone until the Hunters decided to come and give him some company. He assured himself that that wouldn't happen, but he needed to get back to New Haven before nightfall, and nightfall was dangerously close.
Nightfall was when the Hunters ventured from their den. If you were outside at night, the Hunters would get you. There were no ifs or buts. If you were outside when the Hunters prowled, you would die.
The problem was, he had absolutely no idea where he was going. Haven City had once been easy to navigate; landmarks had been scattered around, there had been helpful strangers to give you advice and, most importantly, the street signs had still been intact.
The first thing the Hunters had done when they had taken over the city was to destroy all the signs, essentially turning the entire area into a huge labyrinth. Clever buggers, the man thought, but they were animals, and Humans could always outsmart animals. That was the one fact that gave him confidence in this crazy world.
But even that was not enough, as he wandered, lost, through the city. The sky got darker, and Hunters waited patiently for it to become dark enough for them to hunt.
He licked his lips and ran his hand through his short, black hair which was now drenched with sweat. He always did that when he was nervous.
He'd found a way out. He needed to get back to New Haven. He couldn't get killed now, it just wasn't fair. He wanted to be a hero.
Another hour passed, and he was plunged into darkness. The street lights had long since stopped working, and the only light was the eerie pale grey glow the moon gave off.
He heard a scuffle of feet, and turned, resisting the urge to scream. There was nothing there. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. The Hunters couldn't get him now. He knew a way out.
If the Hunters did get him, he knew how it would go. It'd toy with his fear, and get tired of it. Then, a quick slash to the neck, then nothing.
Suddenly, he heard a growling behind him. He turned, sweat pouring down his face, and saw a dark silhouette staring at him. He stiffened.
He couldn't show any signs of fear to the Hunter. It wouldn't attack him if he stayed confident. That's what he was told.
The creature prowled in circles around him, snarling, and he followed it, keeping eye contact. It roared, then stood in silence for a moment. Then it jerked towards him.
His hand shook, and the creature was let loose.
It gave a hellish scream and lunged at him, and he turned and ran. He heard it's feet scuffling behind him, getting closer and closer every second.
In the darkness, he tripped. He fell face first to the tarmac, crying out at the impact. He tried to push himself up, but he didn't have the strength. He simply lay, his cheek on the road, staring to the side.
The Hunter skidded to a halt next him. The man found himself staring straight into the blood red eyes of the apocalypse. Using it's front legs, the creature flipped him over. It stood on it's chest. It stared at him, growling lowly. A string of spittle dripped from it's mouth onto his face.
Involuntarily, he began to scream.
He screamed as loud as he could. He couldn't stop. The creature let out what seemed to be a snort of laughter, and lifted one of it's front legs.
It's claws appeared, stretching out from it's toes like a sword from a scabbard. Three inches of jet black ivory slowly extended from it's paws.
Somehow, he screamed even louder.
Behind the Hunter, he saw a group of red eyes piercing the darkness at the end of the road. His assailant turned it's head and barked at them. They dispersed, seeing that this prey was already taken. It turned back to him. It tired of his fear.
A quick slash to the neck.
And then nothing.
Chapter Two
New Haven
Callum sat by his stereo player and sighed. He took a random CD from his home-made rack of salvaged records. Foo Fighters. Good. He liked them.
He put the CD in the stereo and turned it on, before getting up and taking a book from his home-made bookcase of salvaged books. It was a black book with a yellow circle on the front. J.R.R Tolkien's Lord of the Rings; The Fellowship of the Ring. He grinned. Luck was on his side today.
He put the book on the table next to the stereo and made himself a drink of flat, warm Coke. He sipped it and sank back into his chair, smiling contentedly.
Callum never had time to relax. He always had to guard the mines, or guard the walls, or guard the gate, or guard the crazy prophet types to make sure they didn't preach too much madness. That's what he was. A guard. He never got any time to himself.
The chair creaked and he froze. Deciding it was nothing, he leant back again, at which point the chair collapsed. He fell back, spilling his drink down the front of his shirt and all over his book. Swearing loudly, he pulled himself up, wiping at the front of his shirt. He picked up the book, but the first few pages were soaked and would probably rip at the slightest touch. Again, he swore, more loudly and obscenely this time.
Somebody banged on the door. Callum exhaled in exasperation. No doubt this would be Natalie with more work for him. Natalie was the boss of the guards.
“Come in!” He shouted, inadvertently letting his irritation show. Natalie opened the door and looked around.
“Having fun?” She asked. Callum uttered a string of obscenities and she tried not to laugh.
“What do you want?” He asked, his voice sharp as a dagger.
“Jake's finished his shift on the mine. Your turn.”
“Fine, just let me change my shirt.” Callum ushered her out of the door, and she commented about his attitude towards his superiors. Callum trudged over to his dresser, which was also home-made, and took out a black t-shirt, which was also salvaged. He unbuttoned his ruined short and slid on his new shirt, before leaving the shack and walking into New Haven.
New Haven was a small place. It looked remarkably like a shanty town; all the buildings were made out of junk like sheets of scrap metal and cinder blocks; it wasn't uncommon for building to collapse completely, but it was safer than sleeping outside. There was a wall around the village which was essentially just a pile of tires and anything else they had at hand. It wasn't great, but you could stand on it and it could take a beating.
One of the good things about New Haven was that everybody knew everybody else. During the short walk to his shift, Callum was greeted almost twenty times, by people who were all his friends; which was pretty good, considering there were only thirty-three people living in New Haven.
Along the way, he picked up a weapon from the guard post – the only brick building in the whole place. They'd taken the building back from the Hunters long ago, who were using it to get into New Haven and steal people away in the dead of night.
Being a guard was very simple. You stopped people who weren't authorised going in to wherever you were guarding, and you stopped anything that wasn't authorised coming out of wherever you were guarding. It was basically just standing there with a gun looking threatening. It was a boring job, but someone had to do it.
Callum was guarding the Mines today. The Mines weren't really mines; more like a series of tunnels dug out by the residents of New Haven in case the village got overrun. There was enough food and water in the Mines to last them about six months, as well as ample medical supplies. There was also an escape tunnel in case whatever captured the village got into the tunnels, but that tunnel had long since been occupied by Mutants.
'Mutant' was the collective term for anything that had been mutated by the bomb that had destroyed the city. They were typically unnaturally tall, but hunched over beings, their skin stretched taut and tearing in some areas to reveal the pale green flesh beneath.
Mutants were, as mentioned before, beings that had been changed by the bomb. The bomb had presumably been some form of bio-terrorism, but nobody really knew for certain. All they knew was that whatever disease it had contained or caused had spread out of control and destroyed half the world.
Callum stood at his post for a few hours. His main talent was standing still; he was practically incapable of being bored. He just stood and watched the sun climb through the sky.
Every now and again he heard a banging on the trap door which lead to the mines. There'd been reports from the other guards of noises coming from down below, so Callum woke himself from his trance and watched it intently. More bang were coming from the tunnels, becoming progressively more frequent and loud. Eventually, the door burst open and a pale creature clambered out. It's head was held down so he couldn't see it's face, and it stood there, coughing and vomiting, for a few minutes. People were gathering to watch this strange creature.
Suddenly, the creature looked up. It's head swivelled around like an owl's, surveying the crowd. It then looked at Callum. He saw that the skin on it's face was stretched to breaking point, tearing at some points to show semi-transparent, pale green flesh.
It saw the gun and screamed at him. Callum instantly decided that it was a Mutant and shot it.
The bullet hit it in the eye, snatching it's head back. The rest of it's body soon followed, and it slammed onto the ground. It jerked in the spasms of death for a few moments, and then was still. The crowd watched solemnly, then dispersed. Death had become a part of life for them, and they were no longer appalled by it.
It lay on the cracked pavement, red blood pulsing from the wound slowly.
Callum shut the trap door, almost slipping on the pungent mixture of blood and sick that now coated the floor, and kicked the body. It deflated with a sickening sigh, and puffed green smoke into the air. Callum instinctively covered his mouth and waved the stuff away, and then sent a civilian to tell Natalie what had happened.
This isn't good, he thought, the Mutants are in the main mines. We might need to collapse them, and then what if the Hunters attack?
He stood by the door, and finished his shift.
This is my first real work in about two years. As such, it is probably riddled with errors and stuff. It's not finished yet, I'll be updating it one chapter at a time. Please, enjoy. Or not. Really, it's your decision
