Emerging from the entrance to the catacombs of the dead city of Agshaka was a frail teenage boy with luscious black hair and deeply crimson eyes underscored by dark bags. His clothes were covered in dust and dried gore. Over four months of living underground had drained the color from both the fabric and his face, which seemed completely pallid.
His skeletal frame clutched a loaded shotgun close to his chest, trembling as he did so. The boy looked left, then right, before stumbling through streets empty of people but full of debris and rotting flesh.
The air reeked like sweet rot that reminded him of dead carcasses and roasted meat simultaneously.
That stench was a warning sign. It was the unmistakable indicator that a plague beast had visited the area recently.
Quickening his pace, he hooked left off the street and leaned close to the broken structure of a bank. Taking a series of breaths, he pressed against the broken revolving door, moving it just enough to squeeze his slender frame through.
After ascending the stairwell to the third floor, he walked solemnly into a room full of office cubicles. There, at the far end near the windows, was a scene that he wished he could forget. Unfortunately, he couldn't no matter how hard he tried.
A bunch of papers, fragments of broken glass, bits of destroyed furniture, and chunks of rotting flesh were scattered about as if a helicopter propeller had torn through the room. But he knew better. He had been here in this very room around five and a half weeks ago.
His eyes turned slowly toward a mangled ventilation shaft hanging just below the ceiling.
Underneath it, a mass of rotting flesh was visible. Most belonged to a plague beast, but some belonged to his mother.
His father had been the last one to die to the beast. However, his flesh was nowhere to be seen. The same could be said about his sister's remains. They had disappeared as well.
Back when his family had first descended underground, they were accompanied by two other families. One, a baker family who ran a local bakery. The others were a group of thieves. Those two died early on due to their inability to ration. They stole from Hill's family, and went up to secure some more, only to end up dead.
He didn't feel anything for them. They deserved it.
However, during the nightly discussions that the three families engaged in, the mystery of the disappearing bodies was brought up several times.
According to news reports that emerged from when the plague first descended, if a man were to be killed by a plague beast, then they would become a plague beast. However, sometimes, their dead body would simply disappear. Almost as if it never existed.
Through hours of speculation and theorizing, they came to a single, solid conclusion. It only made sense.
The disappearing bodies were being taken somewhere. There was no way to figure out where they were going exactly, but it couldn't be disproven.
Perhaps they were taken to the afterlife, if it even existed. Hill wasn't too sure about that conclusion though. Sometimes though, he found himself wanting to believe that it was true.
I hope Meira's in heaven, he thought to himself. She deserves some rest.
His father, on the other hand, was subject to his undying hatred. The mere existence, or previous existence, caused him to doubt the afterlife theory. After all, how could a wretched drunkard like him be snatched away while his saint of a mother remains here on Earth, rotting away?
Injustice. That would be injustice.
He sighed, kneeling before the mound. While the idea of an afterlife was a calming idea, he was simply too tired to believe in it anymore.
He looked down at the shotgun, his fingers struggling to hold the deadly weapon. It used to belong to his father, but now it was completely his own. It was his instrument of survival, and he had used it several times before to kill plague beasts.
But not on himself.
Alright. Let's get on with it then.
Slowly, he turned the weapon toward himself and opened his mouth as the muzzle entered. He stretched his arm and pressed his thumb against the trigger.
He exhaled shakily, then bit down on the barrel as he squeezed the trigger.
But an awkward clunk pierced the atmosphere, causing a shaky gasp to escape his throat.
"Damn bitch," he cursed, withdrawing the muzzle from his mouth and examining the shotgun as he tried to figure out what went wrong.
At that moment, he heard glass scrape against the wooden floor.
Whipping around, his eyes zeroed in on a humanoid figure trudging into the office room. The plague beast stench immediately hit his nose, alerting him that it wasn't human at all.
He expected that, though. He hadn't encountered another human besides his family members in months. In the back of his mind, he was almost certain they had all died from the plague.
The creature that entered stood around five foot ten inches, which just so happened to be his exact height. It had a skeletal build as well, which was to be expected. There wasn't much flesh to devour nowadays.
Its eyes were blackened, and it had jaws like those of an anglerfish. Its pale skin was covered in various growths and injuries, reminding him of a chicken skewer. A slightly luminescent lure dangled from a protrusion on its forehead.
He stood slowly and raised his shotgun. With a neutral facial expression and unmoving eyes, anyone would have believed that Hill was calm about the terrible situation.
He was not calm.
His thoughts could be best described as a violent clash between two powerful forces. One side wanted to shoot the beast and escape the bank. The other, however, wanted to do nothing and allow the vile creature to take his life, ending everything once and for all.
What are you doing, Hill? Just end it already. The nonperishables are running out, and you can't even create a farm safely.
The odds are completely against you. What are you trying to achieve? Are you really still trying to survive, all alone in a world like this?
There's no one there for you. Nobody to congratulate you. Nobody to love you. Nobody to respect you. Nobody to honor you.
Isn't it pointless to strive endlessly within the gaze of nothingness?
The beast moved forward, nearly tripping over a chunk of broken furniture. Its lure dangled in front of its jaw, which opened and closed rhythmically. For whatever reason, it didn't seem to notice him.
How strange, Hill thought to himself. Usually they'd be right on me by now...
His observation was accurate. Plague beasts were aggressive creatures, based on his experience. Some would attack on sight or even scent. So the fact that this beast was walking slowly without making any advancing moves toward him was incredibly unusual. He couldn't help but worry.
He angled his shotgun to the side and examined the pump. Sure enough, the clunk from before had been a simple jam caused by a stuck shell. With fumbling fingers, he managed to clear it.
Raising the shotgun, he pointed it at the beast. His eyes widened as a tightening sensation gripped his heart.
The beast was heading toward a cubicle parallel to the office entrance at a snail's pace. It wasn't heading towards him. However, he had somehow gotten closer to the creature.
Looking down at his legs, he noticed they were making small, incremental movements that he didn't feel or control.
W-what the—how is this happening?
Feeling that something was wrong, he looked up at the creature and pulled the trigger as hard as he could.
A thunderous boom erupted from the muzzle, sending a painful jolt through his shoulder as the stock rammed into his flesh. He staggered backward, blinking repeatedly as he stared at the scene before him.
He had fired at point-blank range, and his shot had indeed hit the target.
But the target wasn't down.
Instead, there was a gaping hole in the beast's chest. Leaking ichor, it slowly turned its head toward him.
And yet again, he had unknowingly moved within a meter's distance of the beast. He gasped and attempted to move backward, but it was too late.
The lure suddenly erupted with fiery white light, causing him to lunge forward as if possessed. His arm stretched out to touch the lure, but before his fingers could brush the surface of the orb, the beast's jaws closed around his elbow.
It happened so fast.
Five sequential chomps devoured his right arm and shoulder entirely. He screamed in pain as he dropped to the floor. The agony caused sensation to course through his nerves, making him realize just how compromised he really was.
That fucking lure! I was drawn in!
He swung the shotgun with his left hand, slamming the muzzle against the beast's jaw as hard as he possibly could. Instead of its head being jerked back by the sudden strike, the beast simply absorbed the blow and leaned in, burying its teeth into the very center of his chest.
His heart rate skyrocketed just before his heart was ripped from his chest.
And everything went blank.
As he began his descent into the void, a strange chorus of disjointed sounds seemed to speak to him.
[You Died.]