Part 1
Part 2 - You are here
Part 3

“Do we exit through the front?” Roger asked.

“No, we’ll be in direct view of the light,” I explained. “We take the back door. The mimics aren’t as dangerous, they just alert the others. But we have to be quick.”

We exited the office, moving towards the backdoors with a hint of hesitation. The mimic was most certainly expecting our presence, but if we were lucky, we could surprise it.

“Is your car still working?” I asked.

Roger glanced in the direction of the front windows, the lights still casting shadows inside the gas station. While the battery hadn’t yet given in, the car might have been damaged during the attack.

“It should be working… but…” he began.

“But what?”

“Oliver is still inside…” he mumbled.

It took me a while to figure out that he was talking about his brother. He hadn’t mentioned him by name up until that point, which had helped me dehumanize him and the horrors he must have been going through. Though I had often heard stories about the Praetors’ victims, I had never once seen them up close.

“You said he was killed?” I asked. “Did they leave him in the car?”

Roger nodded.

Though I knew what we were about to face, I kept my mouth shut. My brief explanation earlier still didn’t seem to have hit them. But if the Praetors really had gotten him, I knew he would still be alive, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

“It’s the only shot we have.”

They all realized taking the car was the best option, but seeing the mangled remains of someone they loved was enough to break anyone. To spare them the sight, I offered to go first. Roger handed me the weapon, and we gathered by the back door.

Once again, the mimic knocked three times, before calling out for help, but that time we would answer the call. I kicked the door open, which shoved the mimic back slightly. At a first glance, it looked like a hooded girl, short and skinny, but as it stumbled back, its face was revealed. In place of eyes, nose and mouth, only had a gaping hole with a tendril resembling a tongue. I didn’t even attempt to shoot it, knowing the sound would only attract the Praetors faster.

“Run!” I yelled, sprinting past the mimic before it could regain its footing.

We rushed for the car, making sure to stay in the ditch by the road, hidden from the car’s headlights. On the side of the road, we could see the first Praetors heading to the mimic’s location. Unlike the mimic, they didn’t make any attempt at copying the human form, instead using various body parts to extend their own, twisted beings. Luckily they didn’t see us, too preoccupied to search in the dark.

But once we got halfway to the car, we heard another, horrific sound penetrate the silent atmosphere.

“Help me,” a guttural, agonized voice called from the car.

Roger and his family had stopped dead in their tracks horrified by Oliver’s voice begging for their assistance.

“No, no, no. I saw him die,” Kassandra let out in shock. “They tore his chest open.”

“I told you. They don’t let their victims die,” I explained bluntly.

“Please. I don’t want to die,” Oliver called out again.

“How is it possible?” Roger asked in disbelief.

His pleas for help disturbed me too, but we were running out of time. I had to take action, even if it meant traumatizing the survivors. Though I wasn’t sure whether or not it would work, I knew exactly what I had to do.

“Stay back,” I said. “You don’t have to see this.”

“What are you doing?” Kassandra asked.

I left the ditch, walking quickly towards the parked car. Roger and Kassandra remained by Derrick’s side, confused by my actions, but following my instructions.

“It hurts,” Oliver cried from the car.

He sat in the front passenger seat, unmoving but clearly in agony. He groaned, desperately calling out for help that would not come. I walked over to his side, finally getting a view of the man who had allegedly died in his seat. What I saw shattered something primal inside me, tearing away the weak facade of bravery I had mustered.

His chest and abdomen had been torn apart, and most of his organs were missing, leaving only parts of his lungs and heart back. An arm and both his legs were gone, leaving him unable to even attempt to fight back. The Praetors had been gathering spare parts before the mimic called them away, leaving him with the only thing they didn’t care to consume: his head. Despite his mortal wounds, he was unable to die, aware and awake enough to suffer.

“Help me,” he begged as he saw me.

Not a drop of blood was anywhere to be seen, trapped within both them missing and remaining chunks of organs. His only way out of misery would be cremation, but it was something I couldn’t provide.

“It hurts so much,” he cried. “Do something.”

“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be over soon,” I said as reassuring as I could.

That was the moment he realized just how broken he was. He knew that and relief could only come through death, but even death was a mercy I couldn’t grant him. Still he had hopes for it, seeing the gun in my hand and all. Acceptance filled his eyes as I raised the revolver. I could only pray that my actions would give him the slightest hint of relief.

I pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. It was the least I could do for a fellow human being.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the air. If the Praetors didn’t know of our presence before that point, they sure did now. Without wasting time, I pulled the broken body out from the car and tossed it unceremoniously onto the ground. His muscles still twitched, but I hoped the damage to his brain was enough to render him unconscious, even if he was still technically alive.

“Let’s go,” I ordered.

Roger ran to my side. I saw the fear in his eyes, but as soon as he saw the state of Oliver’s body, I knew he understood.

“Don’t come here, Kassandra, put Derrick in the car,” he demanded before turning to me. He wanted to speak, but there were no words that could explain the act I’d just committed. Instead he just took the gun back and sat himself in the passenger seat, letting me drive.

As I sat myself in the driver’s seat, I had another brief moment of lucidity. A few memory flashes came back to me: the setting sun, the convoy of trucks speeding down the road. They had been military vehicles, carrying troops and weapons towards town. It was an odd sight considering the fact that our town didn’t possess a military base. But the way they were driving, neglecting to check on me after the crash; they were there for a reason, one outweighing the risk of collateral damage.

“What are you waiting for?” Kassandra asked. “Drive! They’re coming!”

I shook myself back to attention, giving our rear a quick glance. Dozens of Praetors were rushing down the road, finally aware of our presence. I hit the gas, just barely gaining enough speed to escape their clutches. We had made it, if only for the time being.

***

We were on the outskirts of town, with the nearest shelter five miles away. But to risk entering the center during a raid, was a foolish idea. Instead I tried to wrack my mind for alternative hiding spots. Only one came to mind, though. The bunkers of a nearby, wealthy district.

“David,” Roger said after we’d been driving in silence for a few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate what you did for my brother back there,” he explained. “But I can’t bring myself to thank you.”

I glanced over to him, seeing tears in his eyes. He didn’t dare look at me. I couldn’t blame the man, shooting your family in the head isn’t something one usually appreciates. But considering the circumstances it was the best relief I could have given him.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he asked.

“There’s a residential neighborhood a few miles down the road. If we’re lucky, one of the rich bastards living there has a bunker we can use. I just hope they open up,” I explained.

On the way, we drove past the vast forests of Silverwoods, seeing the occasional, tall figure among the trees. Those weren’t the Praetors we were hiding from, but something else entirely, something even I didn’t have a name for.

Then we came upon a T-junction in the road, one marked with a simple sign pointing in both directions. To the right we had the city center, leading past the many residential neighborhoods we sought after. But the other led to the Fortune Fields.

“What’s to the left?” Kassandra asked, noticing the road leading into the forest.

“Fortune Fields,” I said coldly. “We don’t go there anymore.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“It’s better if you don’t know. We’re turning right anyway.”

They didn’t push for more answers, already overwhelmed by the horrors we’d collectively experienced thus far. We just continued down the road in silence, heading to the nearest possible site of refuge. Calvin Place was the name we were looking for: a small commune populated by the wealthiest people of Silverwood. It would be the best place to look for raid bunkers, how else to display one’s wealth in such a hopeless society?

On the way, we came across several of the military brank trucks I’d seen in the convoy; all of them unmarked. Their presence was enough to clarify the memories of my crash, confirming that the military had started operations in our town. But if the truck was here, where were the men it had carried?

Nevertheless, we weren’t about to stop to investigate. We just kept on driving until finally finding a sign that read “Calvin Pl.”

“This should be it,” I muttered as I turned onto the street.

Our headlights flowed down the neighborhood, illuminating another heap of stranded vehicles on the side of the road.

“What is the military doing here?” Roger asked, almost relieved.

“No idea. But I have a feeling they’re not here to help us,” I said.

I slowed the vehicle down, peering down each side of the road for a visible bunker. The lack of Praetors surprised me, but with all the possible victims gone, it was possible that they’d moved on towards the town center.

“Hey, I see something,” Kassandra announced, pointing to a concrete structure between two of the houses.

It was one of the bunkers, slanting into the ground. For a brief moment, I thought we’d found possible salvation, but the hope was quickly stripped away as I noticed the doors. They’d been torn apart from the outside, as if the Praetors had simply dug through them.

“They’re dead,” I let out in a shocked gasp. “How?”

Through thirteen years of raids, not once had there been a report of a broken shelter or bunker. Something this year had changed, correlation only to the presence of the U.S Military.

“Did they do this?” Roger asked.

Ignoring his question, I put my car back in gear. I knew there would be more bunkers hidden in the area, and I could only pray they were intact. We kept driving down the neighborhood, souring it for any place to hide. We found two more bunkers, each more broken than the last. I was about to give up, stop the car and suggest we just hide within one of the houses, but that wasn’t an option.

Then I saw it, the sole, intact bunker of Calvin Place, standing unscathed in an otherwise hopeless world. I hit the brakes hard, causing Roger to fly forward in his seat, but it didn’t matter, we’d found solace.

“That’s it? The bunker?” Kassandra asked.

A sickly growl shattered the silent neighborhood, one akin to a human-like, animalistic shriek of pain. They must have heard our car, on their way to investigate a fresh source of flesh.

“We better hurry,” I said as I rushed over the bunker, not hesitating to knock hard on the metal doors.

“Hey, is anybody in there!” I shouted. I knew the excessive noise would only serve to attract more of these monstrosities, but I had no choice.

“Please, we need help!”

I kept knocking, praying the people inside didn’t mistake us for mimics. There was no real locking mechanism on the exterior, meaning that someone had to be inside. They refused to respond to our please, all the while, allowing the Praetors to get closer.

“Come on, you bastards!” Roger joined in as well, kicking and hammering on the doors.

Then we heard a distinct clunk coming from the inside. We took a few steps back, wondering if we’d both heard the same thing. Roger raised his revolver as a precaution, not sure whether we’d be greeted by our saviors, or something else entirely.

A few seconds passed, before the door finally shot open at impressive speeds. Two soldiers stepped out with their rifles raised, both equipped in advanced gas masks. Neither spoke a single word, they just menacingly kept their rifles pointed at us, expecting us to understand what we wanted. Roger threw his hands up in panic, knowing we stood no chance at taking them both out. Only once they saw Kassandra carrying Derrick, did they gesture for us to rush inside, still not speaking a word.

They locked the doors shut behind us, still keeping an eye on Roger and me. Only then, did one of them decide to talk.

“Names?” he simply asked.

“The shock had rendered us speechless, which only prompted the soldier to yell out his order even louder.

“Names!”

“I’m David Wilson, we’re just looking for a place to–”

No sooner had I spoken my name, before the soldier redirected his attention to Roger and his family, ignoring any sort of explanation I could offer. He repeated his question once more, to which Roger listed each of their names. It seemed to put the soldiers at ease, but they still seemed to be on alert. They both had names on their uniforms, Avery and Perez.

“Are they on the list?” Avery asked.

Perez pulled out a small device, typing in a few words before responding.

“He is,” he said pointing to me. “But they’re not.”

The response riled them up again, raising their rifles, but only pointing them at Roger and Kassandra.

“Woa, what are you doing?” Roger asked in shock, placing himself between his family and the soldiers.

“Identification,” Avery ordered. “Now!”

With a trembling hand, Roger pulled out a worn out driver’s license and handed it to Avery, who attempted to compare the ancient picture of a much younger Roger. He looked back and forth a few times, before finally confirming that he was, in fact, who he claimed to be.

“Alright,” Avery sighed. “Let’s go. You might have made it this far, but I can promise you this night ain’t over yet.”

None of us knew what to ask, nor how to respond. We just stood there with dumb looks on our faces, awaited further orders.

“Time to get you underground,” Perez joined in, before forcing us deeper into the bunker.