If there was one thing that Kyle knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it was that he was about to die. And if, by some miracle, he wasn't dead in the next few seconds, he was going to start praying at night because he must have a guardian angel. But there was no way he was going to survive because he was under attack and why was he still conscious when he should be feeling his brains being ripped out or something gory like that?
Well, a few seconds passed, and he wasn't dead. In fact, he was very alive as was proven by his frantically beating heart and fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. He wasn't sure exactly how, though, as only a minute ago he was face to face with what looked to be half of a face at first glance.
Kyle kept his eyes firmly shut for a few more seconds, listening to his pulse in his ears and allowing it to comfort him. He was alive. Something made it go away.
When he finally let his eyelids flutter open, he almost flew back into the newly blazing fire. He was almost right about this thing having half a face.
It was inevitable that Kyle would eventually have to look at a Creature. You have to kill them to survive in this new world. It was really just the timing of this attack that had frightened him the most. After losing his dad, his last family member and ally, only the day before… to be attacked so soon after being left alone… it left him with the strangest sense of foreboding he'd ever felt.
Kyle couldn't look at the thing for more than a second at a time. Not long enough to gather a description of its appearance. He felt almost as if looking at it for too long would break him; turn him into some blank, jellylike being who couldn't even start a fire.
It took him a little over three hours to fully butcher up the wretched-smelling dead thing. He still had no idea what had saved him from Death only seconds before he would have met Him. All he knew was there was a clean hole through the front of the leathery forehead (that he would really rather not have jabbed a finger in by accident).
Only once there was a gruesome pile of dismembered limbs fueling his safety fire did Kyle feel comfortable enough to assess not only his current situation but also events that had just taken place.
He was alone. Completely, hopelessly alone in a place he couldn't even recognize as his hometown anymore. It was desolate. He hadn't seen another living soul since his dad, and not for over a week before then. Kyle was beginning to wonder if he truly was the last one left in South Park when he remembered the neat hole in the Creature's skull. A hole like that doesn't just appear like that. A hole like that is man made.
Which means he's not alone in this place.
The thought of another human being; another pair of ready eyes to watch his back, a working weapon to defend them, another hand to hold… The thought of it was too comforting to allow for now.
That was one of the worst things about the world lately: the crippling loneliness. It sloshed in Kyle's stomach like tar and weighed his brains down with an echo so loud and heavy that he often worried he'd trip over them.
A quick inspection around his tiny campsite (it really only consisted of a fire, a backpack and a sleeping bag stuffed inside another sleeping bag) revealed…. absolutely nothing. Not a single trace of evidence that any one (or thing) had been there to pop one in the Creature's skull for him. He knew it happened, though. Kyle was nothing if not intelligent.
By the time the first sliver of light peeked over the mountainous backdrop hat framed South Park, Colorado, Kyle knew that come afternoon he'd be severely lamenting his lack of sleep. It would be the best course of action to get on with his daytime missions and forget all about what had happened that night, for now. He could spent the time he wasn't using to keep himself alive to think about his guardian angel.
He needed to find them.
In the spirit of the morning, Kyle brewed some black tea, keeping his nose pinched as much as he could to block out the horrid stench of singed flesh, and nibbled down half a cereal bar. His father had made a point of making sure Kyle knew the importance of breakfast. It was wiser to eat small portions of food throughout the day than try to starve to conserve food. That wouldn't help anything. Or so his dad had told him, anyway.
The brief memory of his dad sent his body back in time and he once again felt the burning heat of the man's infected skin and his fond gaze. It didn't hurt to remember him. He'd expected to be a lot more shaken, but it seemed that Kyle's well of emotions had run almost dry.
It almost pained Kyle to leave his campsite in his tracks; backpack stuffed to the brim with he bare essentials, Gerald Broflovski's sharpened survival knife triple roped securely to one of his belt loops. He'd yet to use that knife in self defense (or offense, for that matter) but he knew by the ease in which it pierced an aluminum can, like sliding through melted butter, that with this weapon on hand he could be a formidable opponent. The idea almost excited him.
Kyle used a brisk jog to reach his destination, a feebly barricaded bakery in the town's center square. He knew how easy it would be to make his own bread if he could just get his hand on a bag of flour. It would be weeks until he'd need to venture out again for food.
The creaks and groans only just permeating the outside walls of the bakery sent Kyle's body in a frenzy once again. Those noises could, realistically, be anything. They didn't have to be sounds of the rotting, grimy limbs tumbling around all over (possibly) his food. The thought compelled him to unravel his knife from its ropes and hold it in front of him like a combination between a warning and a white flag.
A light tap on the thick planks of layered plywood concealing the otherwise gaping entrance was all it took to change Kyle's life that day. It had never occurred to him for a second that the lethargic footfalls he knew he heard from outside that tiny bakery could have belonged to another human. It had never occurred to him that his guardian angel would materialize in the form of blonde hair, blue eyes and tight jeans.
