“Don’t worry we’re going to make it through this.”

Her neck twisted and turned rapidly, unable to retain control of herself any longer. I became tense listening to her teeth scrape fiercely together as she ground her jaw in agony. This girl, screaming suppressed groans behind a bloodied rag, was dead.

To me.

There I stood, shivering beside the bed, watching it. Nothing could make me forget, nor could I avert my eyes. Sudden head jerks and rapid grunts made me uneasy, flinching every time its body convulsed, contorting maliciously. Tears rolled down my cheek, curling at the corner of my mouth. Through withered lips I tasted the drop welled at the edge. The tang of salt and fear filled my dry mouth, wetting its parched surface. I could no longer stand. Through weary gaze, I began to spin, my vision blurring as the lights faltered.  Then, at the point of collapse, I caught a glimpse of the creature... my trepid tears fading faster in the crosshairs of its glare.

As I lost all hope, the faintest flutter of a little girl's murmur shot through me. Pain had, and continued to, tear apart her delicate body from head to toe. I took a step back, no longer able to witness this torture, soon feeling ill at the sight of the horror. I felt as if I was falling, wondering if I would ever be able to stop. 

This thing, this little girl... my own sister!

Memories of my sister flooded my mind; the sound of her laughter, the touch of her hand in mine. Now, here I stand, beside her frail body, just waiting for her to pass.

The solemn glow of the morning light cast itself from the window, spilling out across the room where relatives had gathered in mourning. Kneeling against the other side of the bed, panting wildly perched my mother, who was struggling to come to terms with the fragile state of her little angel. Her face sought some semblance of hope; yet the depression had made her weary. She possessed a set of rosary beads in her hands. Running her trembling fingers over each bead, she mumbled quiet prayers to herself along my sister’s bedside.

My mother’s withered lips began to move as she looked up at me.

“Maria, darling. I need you to, to go out…” pausing as she shifted her gaze towards the girl on the bed.

“Wait, wait, wait. Me? Go out there?” I responded hesitantly.

“Please. We’re down to our last few painkillers. And without your help, Maria, I feel that she might not…,” my mother choked back a sob.  “No-one else is able to go outside. No-one, but you. I’m sorry, but you’re the only one who is physically and mentally capable with such a task.”

Mentally…physically…capable? My god I was terrified.

“Please Maria. Please!” she sounded as if the next words she was going to speak would be her last. Her hands gripped my sister’s tighter.

I froze in disbelief at such a demand – to step out of the house.

To go out there!

“But what about Greg?” I pointed towards the kitchen, where a sleek and slender man paced. His gangly stature revolved around the dinner table, back hunched as he desperately scrolled amongst the files scattered across. A timid, almost skeletal finger traced the writings; while the other wrung what hair was left on his head. 

The words paralysed me, merely mouthing his name made my skin crawl. I couldn’t bear to watch as he hobbled amidst the kitchen, yet my eyes would not avert from tracing his wicked steps. His frail body marched back and forth through the kitchen, whilst ever so often peering into the other room with a looming glare. I turned back to my mother, glancing over my shoulder a final time before whispering in a low voice.

“Surely, he’s the next adult to go out after Phil…”

“MARIA!” she spoke as sharp as a cut-throat razor. “This is your sister we are talking about here; life or death.”

My mother’s piercing eyes targeted mine; a cloak of impudence shadowed me.

“Now, what happened with Phillip is still….”

She stifled a tear, exhaling deeply as she caught her breath. 

“Gregory, however…”

Her words became self-destructive, drifting off into a muffled uproar of tearful annihilation. My mother broke down as fast as she spoke. She shook her head, gripping my sister’s hands tighter, and began murmuring prayers to herself once again.

I did not refute, for I now had a promise to keep.

Carefully I moved past the bed, preparing myself for the worse still yet to come; my meeting with the outside. Then, as I left the bedroom I was halted by Greg’s pasty claw fondling the pages of the folder he was reading.

“Maria, can I…uh, speak with you in the kitchen please?” Shifting his vision towards the bedroom, he glanced worriedly, checking his watch in haste.

I cautiously followed Greg, or Gregory, into the kitchen where he introduced me to his setup. Upon the table laid countless documents enclosed within confidential folders beside a suitcase of vials.

“Okay Maria, I’m sure you understand the times we are in.”

A look of confusion danced across my face.

“You mean with the world literally ending? Yeah, I gathered that!”

He rolled his eyes in despair.

“No. Apart from that.”

I was befuddled by his response. I mean, what else could there be? How much worse could this entire situation get?

“You do know what happened to Philip, I mean what really happened?”

His voice didn’t quiver like before, this time he was asking me what I knew about all of this. No longer hesitant, but eerily direct with a spiteful glare interrogating me. Fear shot through me, chilling my skin and numbing my brain.

“Oh, in that case…” he withdraw his words like a switchblade, retracting into his workspace once again.

“What about my father?” I cried in panic, jittering as I scanned the room for safety.

Suddenly, he froze.

Eyes stone, body in rigour mortis; he jerked his head towards me.

“Well, he uh…you know…” words bumbled from his lips, struggling to take hold.

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, matting his greasy blonde hair as he ran his frenzied fingers through it. His eyes traced the vials upon the table frantically. Viscous, almost crimson-like substances brimmed many of the containers, separated by a different numerical code. It was like I was decrypting a cipher; I just didn’t know where to start. Then, an anomaly plucked my attention away, strapped further down in the case, two oddly distinguished vials hid. These, more maroon in colour, made me halt in fear; the labels stained and torn, unlike the neatly displayed and more visible samples above. One of the vials had tossed and turned on its side, revealing a faint scrawling of a name rather than a number. Compelled by this discovery, I reached for the vial, attempting to read the rest of the writing. Suddenly, a shrill claw slapped my hand away.

“No! What are you doing?” shouted Greg.

Stunned and confused, I watched Greg turn the vial around, concealing the label. He inspected the case closely, aligning each vial carefully, ensuring they were in the right order.

“Um...?” I stood in shock. “What are you doing?”

He slammed the case shut, shuffling the documents into a neat pile and held them up to me.

“You see these?”

How could I not? They were so close to my face that my eyelashes brushed the paper.

“These are…”

I caught a glimpse of the words planted in my face, desperately falling off my feet in horror. It can’t be. 

Shunned by my sudden surprise, he peered around tentatively before answering.

“Uh, never you mind.”

Greg quickly swept up all the loose papers and threw them into the case as I shot to my feet.

“Greg… where the hell did you get those from?” my voice hung on the last word, hesitant of his response.

“M…Maria…” spluttered a voice from across the room.

Behind me, my sister called out, choking as she struggled to find the strength in her voice.

“Well, looks like you’re needed.” he snidely remarked.

Greg’s chilling voice eerily whispered in my ear, paralysing me as shivers shot through my body.

“M…Maria.” Winced my sister’s dying corpse.

Hurrying over, I clambered to my sister’s bedside.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

I held my sister’s hand steadily. Her palm as brittle as her words, delicate yet broken.

“Maria, b…before you go. I want you to have this.”

My sister groaned as she raised her arm, pointing to the bedside. Upon the table laid a diary. I picked it up, fondling the picture on the front cover. A picture of our family; mother, myself, my sister, and father.

“Daddy gave it to me a while back. It was his; he wanted you to have it. I was a bit slow giving it to you…I’m sorry.”

Her chest contracted rapidly as she coughed into the blood-soaked rag handed by mother.

“Don’t. I’m gonna grab you some meds so that you can get better. We’re going to make it through this.” I gripped her hand tighter, hoping there was truth behind my words.

“I love you Maria,” whimpered my dying sister.

“I love you too Mia.” I replied softly, choking back a cry of fear.

Timidly, I shambled towards the front door, nervously fidgeting with the straps of my backpack when a soft voice startled me.

“Maria, honey.” Aunty Kathy called out to me. “I was going through the last of our supplies, tidying up what I could, you know, here and there. And, um…”

“Yeah okay. Why did you need me again, aunty?” asking impatiently, yet frightened beyond belief.

“Oh, apologies dear. Well, upon my search, I came across this.”

She extended her arm, only to reveal a combat knife resting in her open palm.

“I just, I didn’t want you out there, in all that chaos, empty-handed. I thought this should help.”

I smiled graciously, equipping the blade to my backpack and hugging Kathy with a loving embrace.

“Thank you, aunty.”

“Remember, come back in one piece.”

“I will…” I mumbled under my breath, a frail smile swam across my face.

Upon reaching the front door, I took the diary Mia gave me, and began placing it into my bag. Though not my bag, no. Phillip had kindly taken mine leaving me with this crappy sack. But it was better than nothing.

Amidst my placement of the diary, I heard the shuffling of feet tumble towards me. To my surprise, I discovered Greg overlooking me, eyes intently gazing at the contents of my bag.

“Uh, Maria. What’s that you have in your hand?”

From where Greg had rushed over, the files that he’d organised had fallen in a heap across the kitchen floor. Most of the documents lay scrambled atop of one another.

“Um, it's nothing really. Just a diary left behind by my father.”

At that point, Greg’s concern changed into ecstasy.

“Oh, Maria. Do you, uh, think that I could have a look at that diary?” Greg started to outstretch his arm, reaching for the diary in my hand.

As he came closer, I witnessed a horrific scar engraved down his left forearm. Its appearance was ghastly, as though a jagged blade had carved deep into his skin. What alarmed me though was the tattoo concealed beneath the scar. Faded ink writhed and contorted to form a fractured globe. The black and white image contrasted with a scarlet cross that rippled either side of the scar.

“Greg…what. Where did you get that from?” I pointed towards his arm.

He immediately withdrew his hand, shielding his arm from view, yet his gaze remained on the diary.

“I…uh, uh…sorry. What did you say?”

Mia coughed more violently than before, whimpering with every breath she took. Knowing valuable time was being wasted, I had to leave before she grew any worse.

“M…Maria…What about…?”

Before Greg could ask anything else, I exited the house.

Once the door had closed behind me, I hindered at the sight of the world. Abandoned stockpiles of upturned cars congregated among the roadsides, with some of the older, more derelict vehicles spilling out into the forest. A strong smell of decay mustered in the air like dried blood, whilst an impending feeling of dread hung over me like a noose waiting to choke me. A molten haze of fiery transience streamed across the sky, flooding its blue haze and flitting through the misty sea of clouds. In its voidless glare I remained, uncertain if I was the first… or only being to walk among its gloomy wasteland. However, I knew that the longer I gazed at the Earth’s burning carcass, the less likely I was to return. So, I decided it was time to move on.

My feet bled, unsure how far I’d travelled, dreaded footprints warily shambling behind. A thudding pounded in my chest, shrouding my heart in terror, not knowing what time it was or where I had ended up. Just then, shuffling followed by the swift patter of footsteps rushed through the bushes by the roadside. Ever so slowly I crept, startled by the sudden breeze, paranoid by the hidden eyes watching over me, observing my every movement.I analysed the foliage as the figure moved from left to right. My hands traced my body, fumbling in desperation as I searched for something, anything to defend myself with. 

My knife! 

Hurling my bag to the floor effortlessly, I wasted no time in my search for it. While frantically searching for my knife the figure began to move once more. The figure scurried and scampered, barrelling in and out of the bushes. As I touched the cusp of the handle, my body jerked as the foliage snarled. I timidly swiped the blade into my grip, agitated yet ready to face the figure, when suddenly the commotion had stopped. I halted in fear, desperately waiting for the figure to strike.

Was I going crazy?

This new world had taken its toll on me, and I hadn’t even been in its glare for 3 hours let alone 3 weeks.

Steadily I jammed the knife into my boot, cradling the rucksack on my back and trudged onwards, frequently peering towards the roadside in fright. Terrified of my own jittered gasps, I picked up the pace hoping to escape the insanity unfolding around me, let alone my own creeping its way closer.

Eventually I stumbled into the Sun’s dying light and that’s when I saw it.

My saving grace.

The ambulance, sprawled on its side, abandoned. Its sirens flitting with the glowing haze, gentle flickers of light illuminated the vehicle’s carcass beneath.

I edged slowly towards the vehicle, careful not to awaken whatever lurked behind the bushes, pre-emptively waiting to strike. Step by step I treaded, finally reaching the ambulance’s barren corpse. I sought refuge in the faint shadow cast by the upturned truck, hoping to find solace amidst the chaos. However, as I turned to face the rear, a wave of anxiety washed over me at the sight of its desolation. The doors that were supposed to lead me to my sister's salvation had been violently torn off their hinges. Inhumanely stripped of its exterior. I was unsure whether this was good for me or not. And while I had managed to gain entry, I couldn't shake the question of who or what had caused this destruction.

As I climbed inside the ambulance through the open boot, desperation fuelled my search for anything medicinal or useful for our survival. Despite tearing the seats apart and rummaging through every compartment, my efforts proved futile; the ambulance had been stripped bare. The realisation that there was no hope left for my sister crushed me. My first venture outside had ended in failure, leaving me feeling utterly powerless. I collapsed onto the seat, consumed by the overwhelming guilt.

With a frantic rage brimming, I kicked the back of the driver’s seat with a spiteful shudder. To my astonishment, it sprang open like a piñata, unleashing a cascade of empty pill bottles and a few bottles of medicine. In the midst of the downpour, a nervous chuckle escaped my lips as I trembled while hastily snatching up the few viable containers.

Swiftly, I snapped out of my trance, stunned by the incredible discovery, and scrambled to my feet. With renewed urgency, I clambered back through open boot and onto the faceless road.

I was against the clock; and all that stood before me was the journey - the dreaded hike back.

About halfway on my return, I began to feel lifeless. All of a sudden, I dropped to the ground; my legs collapsing beneath me. Shuffling arose once more from the forest entryway, this time closer and more viciously, as if a fight were breaking out. I crawled towards the disturbance; eyes fixated on the figure behind the bushes. Abruptly, a twinge struck my calf, darting my attention away from my surroundings to the now intruding pain. I peered at the twig snapped in two, jaggedly piercing into my leg. Writhing in pain, I plucked the instrument of torture away, quickly feeling relieved when I retrieved it. Now, my gaze fell upon the noise, the discomfort in my leg swiftly passing the more I concentrated on the disturbance. Reverting my focus towards the bushes, I was met with an indelible image.

An abhorrent feeling of dread pinned me down; my eyes were directed to the source of all evils. Above my pitiful body stood a bloodhound, its fur matted with dried blood and its eyes gleamed with malice. A low growl emanated from the creature. As the stench of decay intensified, I quivered at the hound’s sudden clamber as it began to circle me.

Before I could even breathe in, the bloodhound lunged at me, growling fiercely. I struggled to fight the hound, its jaws snapping at my throat. My body weakened as I felt its hot breath on my face.

Sweat trickled down my back as I tried to steady my breathing. My heart raced faster each second it grew nearer. Unable to move, my backpack like a shackle pinning me to the ground, I could only restrict the beast’s attacks for so long. The hound’s low snarls grew louder and more intense with each attack on my skin, until it let out a mighty bellow. 

Seizing the opportunity, I attempted to reach for my knife, stifled in my boot. The hound’s fettered snaps eagerly lashed and whipped closer to my flesh. Panic overwhelmed me. I couldn’t breathe. Nor could I see. Slobbering spittle splattered across my face, trailing over my narrowed gaze. Each lunge it made towards me, I could feel the sharp unsheathing of another bared fang intent on plunging itself into my fetid skin. My arms were beginning to give way, growing limp as the hound heaved its body atop mine. I had to do something; only a few inches remained between my neck and death.

Exerting all the energy I had left, I hurled the hound back off me, giving my flesh breathing room - a taste of humanity once more. But my victory was short-lived. Within an instant, the hound came back once again, more aggressive than before. Swiftly I grabbed the knife out of my boot and held it in front of my face, protecting my weeping eyes with trembling hands.

There was a sickening sound as the blade sank into its flesh, with a loud whimper murmuring after. However, all I heard was the piercing of my knife.

I remained still, not moving until only the dead silence whispered in my ear.

Seconds, maybe even minutes passed, before I awoke.

My eyes widened, opening up to sheer horror. The bloodhound’s eyes shot straight into mine; sickly scars rippled across the hound’s pupils, amidst the dark veins drawn to the lens’s forefront. The colour red now tore apart my innocence. 

A discoloured scarlet liquid seeped out from the hound’s tear ducts, running down its sullen face. Droplets of the liquid fell from the hound’s torn flesh where the jawbone had pierced through. What remained were the fleshy remnants of a mutilated carcass. Upon seeing its face, I screamed in fear and crawled backwards as hastily as I could. Distraught and disturbed, I took a moment to collect myself. My heavy pants for air were a feeble attempt to calm my nerves, but I didn’t know what else to do. Distracted by the hound’s corpse, I witnessed a collection of tablets scattered across the road.

The pills!

I quickly gathered the tablets off the road and shoved them into my pocket. 

Time was hastening with each second that passed, and although I had the tablets, something ate at me knowing that it was running thin.

Carefully I clambered to my feet and wandered towards the bushes, checking every direction for another attack. My hands ran nervously through the foliage, despite my intense terror to run away. I whisked the bushes aside, anticipating that each swipe would be my last. But when I brushed through the final debris, I was alone, met only by my frightened shadow.  

Further inside the foliage-drawn entryway, snagged upon a surprisingly sharp twig, hung a dark-grey material. It appeared to be some sort of leather, presumably from a jacket, or otherwise sports coat. The inlay felt damp, and possessed a strong aroma of sweat and blood, yet disturbingly it was not human. I shuddered, eerily glancing around my surroundings, the glaring of eyes watching me.

Stalking me.

Was this the same figure who was hunting me earlier, or a different one?

I was too afraid to answer that question, not knowing who or what wanted me off all things.

Just then, a warning alerted me, blaring vividly in bold letters to hurry back. 

‘MIA!’

Taking even the slightest opportunity to return to safety, I scurried back home.

Not looking back once.

As soon as I had reached the stretch of road that led up to my house, I felt a looming sense of unease shroud me. Walking closer to investigate, a strange tingling feeling urged me to turn around; but I ignored it. Instead I delved into the curiosity like a psychotic detective, impatient on finding the truth. My body clambered towards the house in disbelief. Momentarily, I spotted a trail of blood leading from the house. I continued to creep towards the mysterious building, not knowing whether it was home anymore.

Upon reaching the front door, I gently turned the handle, which eerily creaked open. Looking around, it was as though I had glimpsed into the depths of hell. Glass lined the splintered floorboards, while household items littered like debris across the floor. But my attention drew to the crimson pathway leading to the garden. Hesitant with each timid step, I peered into the outside, fumbling with the dishevelled door frame loosely hanging from its hinges. My vision caught sight of the horror in the backyard.

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t stand; there was nothing left to do. It was hopeless! The smell of death morbidly lingered in the air.

I stumbled into the bedroom, unable to comprehend my reality. 

Had I been here sooner, would this have happened?

I didn’t know, but I was sure to find out. 

Blood seeped through the covers, upon the bed where Mia had laid, pattering onto the wooden floorboards beneath. Rags and bandages caked in a dark scarlet dye were paved like stepping stones around the edge of the bed. Beads burst frantically across the sheets now in disarray. Each one sprinkled like raindrops as they tumbled off the edge, carelessly rolling towards my shoes. It was all to much to bear.

Every room I stumbled into was trashed, devoid of life and absent of what made it a home. Clothes were hurled across the surroundings along with broken furniture and a blood-curdling red essence lingering upon each shattered object.

Then, I stood at the dreaded entryway of the kitchen. An eerie mist of isolation hindered in the wake of this destruction. Counter-tops, cupboards, even the table lay in a chaotic state, similar to the rest of this place. I grew uneasy, noticing a strange anomaly. 

Greg’s enormous workshop was no longer there; his suitcase and collection of documents were gone. 

Venturing further into the kitchen, I analysed my surrounding, uncertain if Greg had even been here all along. Despite the abhorrent destruction, the workplace he’d set up left no trace. Spotless.

I scoured the kitchen from top to bottom, intent on confirming any trace of Greg’s existence so as to not prove myself insane. Then, peeking out from beneath a counter-top, I noticed a folder catch my eye. Its edges frayed and front-end wrinkled in abandonment, I bent down to pick it up. Soot fell upon the inscriptions marked on the folder’s cover. As I swiped off the debris I began reading the words etched on the label.

‘CONFIDENTIAL’.

The word enticed me to read, yet I felt regret and terror looming as I fondled the first page. 

A desperate futility writhed in my fingers, anticipating the turn. When I took a closer look at the document, I discovered a name inscribed at the bottom of the folder: ‘Waylon Leray’. 

My father.

What?

Why?

How?

Now, I could barely stand the sight of this folder clasped in my wary palm. 

I was unsure whether to read this file or burn it. What good would it do either way?

Torment started to enthral me into its empty shadow the longer I stood here. Around the house I searched, for an end, a release from this place. Eventually, I managed to find the last finite remains of fuel left lying around. Guilt perturbed me with every droplet I poured, mocking me, scorning me as the final few dribbled by my feet at the end of the footpath.

There I stood, lighter in hand, questioning the fragility of my sanity. I dropped the light, unable to avert my eyes from the house erupting into flames.

“I’m sorry Mia.” my voice chilled, a low murmur fumbling from my lips.