Water dripped from the roof of the sewers as a man quietly jogged through the tunnels, his wispy and unshaven face showing his youth in the light of the torch he carried. Another explosion above shook a little bit of concrete dust from the ancient roof, causing the man to shudder. Picking up the pace, he ran a little faster while peering into the inky blackness over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed.
The smell of the sewer was unpleasant, but not as bad as he thought it'd be. Then again, he'd always prepared himself for the worst. His worn leather shoes stamped against the wet concrete as he kept running, hoping to distance himself from the chaos that was blooming above.
As he rounded a corner, he came face to face with another man. This one was decidedly older, with a rough greying beard and hair, dressed in a ripped and grimy plaid shirt.
"Gah! Stay back!" the older man shouted, levelling a sawn-off double barrelled shotgun at him, the light from the torch duct taped to it stinging his eyes.
"Okay, okay." The younger man said, raising his hands and his crowbar above his head. "Calm down. It's okay. I'm not going to attack you."
The older man nodded with a grunt of understanding. "Sorry. Been a little jumpy after… Well, whatever's happening up there."
Another distant rumble shook another cloud of dust from the ceiling as the two men approached each other.
"It's good to meet another survivor. What's your name?" asked the young man.
"Bert." He said in a gravelly tone. "What about you, kid?"
"Terrance." The younger man said.
Nodding, Bert sat down by the wall and picked a cigarette out of his pocket and fumbled for a while with a lighter. "So, Terrance. Mind if I call you Terry?"
"Sure." He shrugged.
"Great. Anyway Terry, why'd you come down 'ere?" Bert asked. "More importantly, what the hell's goin' on up there?"
Terrence sat down and breathed a heavy sigh. "Well, that's a bit of a long story, but I guess we've got to pass the time down here somehow. I just hope they don't find us."
Getting up, Bert offered a hand to Terrance. "If you need a hidin' place I've got a little place not that far from here. Haven't used it for a few weeks, but it should still be there. Come on, I'll lead you to it."
Taking Bert's hand up, he and Terrance began walking as another muffled explosion could be heard.
"Damn bombs. London's not been attacked like this since the Blitz." Bert grumbled.
"Yeah, funny you should mention that." Terrance said. "I think it might be the same people responsible. Although I use the term 'people' loosely."
"Nazis? After all these years? The world's gone mad I tell you." Bert grumbled. The two marched on in silence a little while longer until they came to a rusted metal door. "Stand back, the thing's a little rusty if memory serves me."
Digging into his pocket and reaching out a screwdriver, Bert slid it into a weathered groove in the wall the lock connected to and lifted the latch, unlocking the door. Opening the creaky iron door, Bert revealed a small, cramped underground room. A single makeshift bed of cardboard and scrap cloth lay on the floor and three wooden boxes and a pallet were stacked together to make a crude table and chairs. A deck of worn playing cards sat on top of the table, its corners frayed and softened with use.
"Here we are, home sweet home." Bert said, striding into the small room. "Be sure to lock the door behind you."
Nodding, Terrance stepped inside and closed the door, locking it with a click. Bert took a seat at the table and rested the shotgun against a wall.
"You live here?" Terrance asked.
"Used to. Ever since I got kicked out of house and home. Dirty bastard landlord jacked up the rent when I was just about to pay it. I was just gettin' my life back on track too. Drinking problem gone, stopped smoking, tried my hand at carpentry, and it all gets screwed over by that greedy sonovabitch just because he wanted a little more cash. Had just tried cleaning up myself again before all hell broke loose." Bert spat. "But enough about me, Terry. Take a seat. We'll play some poker and you can tell me just what the hell's going on."
Sitting down, Terrance smoothed his neat blond hair back and sighed. "Okay, but I'm not sure what started the whole thing. But I'll tell you my end of the story…"
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
Terrance lived in a flat in London. He also worked there. In fact, it's where he spent most of his adult life. The grey drab walls of the smelly flat bored Terrance to no end, and his work didn't change much. Dressed in a neat button up shirt and long pants, he felt like he was dressed for the job. The only problem was he didn't get much work.
Terrance was a work at home accountant. Numbers. All day, every day, nothing but numbers. Managing other people's money whilst making a meagre living himself. He'd been told accounting paid relatively well, but the fact that he didn't get many customers given his unfortunate lack of advertising and declined applications to larger accounting businesses, most people thought he was just some scammer. While the thought of partaking in said activity had crossed his mind at least once or twice, he'd always reminded him that it was wholly immoral. Not to mention he'd be caught out by the police for it.
While he worked, Terrance liked to listen to his grandfather's old radio. It was one of those ham radios that they used in the early war. It could barely pick up any signals, but the ones that could play were alright. Besides, the radio held some sentimental value for Terrance.
It was as Terrance was sitting at his desk, fiddling with his pen and bored out of his skull when the radio he was listening to conked out.
"Argh, again?" Terrance grumbled as he reached over to the radio and began to fiddle with the dials. As he did, he began to hear a voice. "Ah, found it."
Focusing the radio signal, the voice was actually surprisingly clear, and what it said surprised him.
"Ve are approaching London now Major! Ve only have to cross the English Channel and ve vill arrive!" someone shouted.
"What the hell?" Terrance muttered to himself. "Is this some kind of radio play?"
Listening to the radio transmission more and more, he began to worry. What the hell had he come across? It sounded like military orders were going back and forth, but what was that about London?
A gasp came from the radio as someone started shouting again. "Major, there is someone listening in on our communications!"
Terrance gulped in fear a little, although it was probably just part of the radio play.
"Ve have traced the signal back to London! A small flat in ze middle of ze city!" the operator shouted.
Terrance was really scared now. He was pretty convinced that this was real now. Flicking the radio off and unplugging it, Terrance breathed heavily. It was probably nothing now that he thought about it.
"I need some coffee. Maybe something stronger." He grumbled as he got up from his chair. As he did, there was a knock on the door.
Making his way to the door, Terrance opened it cautiously. He could see a young boy with blond hair and a slight smirk on his face waiting patiently outside. Opening the door a little wider, he could see that the boy was wearing some kind of costume with cat ears, a yellow and black uniform and a miniature television by his side. But what struck Terrance most was the red band on his arm with a swastika on it.
"Who are you?" Terrance asked. 'Is that some kind of costume? What's going on?'
"Guten tag. I am Warrant Officer Schrödinger. I am a messenger for ze Major." The cat-boy grinned.
"Major?" Terrance asked before realising what was going on.
"Ze Major has a message for you." The cat boy said, turning on the mini television to reveal a rather plump blond man in a large white coat and glasses.
"Ah, so you must be ze person who has intercepted our radio transmission." He said with a grin. "Guten abend, Londoner."
"Who are you?" Terrance asked.
"I am ze Major, and I will soon be bringing var to your charming little hometown." He said, disturbingly cheerfully. "In fact, ve vill be arriving in London to start ze var very shortly."
"I… wha- war?" Terrance asked, obviously baffled.
"I can see zat you have not heard of us. Clearly you do not belong to the Hellsing or Iscariot dogs." The Major said. "It matters not. However, zere is something zat I am interested to know. Who are you, and how did you come to discover our radio transmissions?"
"I… My name's Terrance. I was just listening to my grandpa's old radio when the signal went down. I tried to get it back to where it was, but it seems to have caught your signal instead." Terrance said.
"Ah, how fascinating! Vell, it seems since you have been given zis early varning, you might not be counted amongst ze casualties. A shame." The Major said with a sigh. "Ah vell, ze eight million or so souls that will be killed around you should more than suffice. And who knows? You might just be amongst zem if I am fortunate."
"Eight million?! You're planning on killing the entire population of London?" Terrance shouted in disbelief.
"Quite correct." The Major grinned. "It vill be a glorious var! Such a slaughter has only been dreamed of before zis day!"
"You're insane." Terrance gulped.
"Perhaps to you, but in my eyes I am quite sane." The Major laughed. "Now, I believe zat herr Schrödinger must be elsewhere. Auf wiedersehen, Terrance of London!"
With a click, the miniature television flicked off and the cat boy grinned. As he turned and left, Terrance ran out of his apartment after him.
"Wait, what the hell's this war all about?" he shouted.
The cat boy looked back and began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Terrance asked.
"You do not know? Zen clearly you are no threat to us." Schrödinger laughed. As he rounded a corner, Terrance ran after him again.
"Wait, damn it!" he shouted, but as he looked around the corner he saw that the boy had disappeared. "What the…"
As Terrance walked back to his old flat, he began to think. This was all so very weird. It was almost unbelievable! But he couldn't deny all the evidence piled up in front of him. How would he get out of London anyway? The highways out of the city were always clogged like a glutton's arteries, on foot would've been impossible and the underground was almost always packed. It would take him at least a day to get out of London, and it was already extremely late at night. As the clock clicked over to eleven thirty, Terrance decided that if he couldn't run the next best thing to do would be to hide. Grabbing a backpack, Terrance began to stuff it full of canned food, as well as fitting in a small first aid kit, a torch and, of course, a copious amount of beer. Scrounging around a little more, he found the crowbar he'd bought to deal with a particularly stubborn cabinet door and had never used it since.
Closing the door to the flat, he thought about locking it but decided it was a waste of time. Sprinting down the stairs, he dodged around his girthful but certainly not mirthful landlord.
"Terrance?! The bloody hell d'you think you're going? Your rent's due!" he shouted.
"Shove it you bloody chav! You can have my apartment and everything in it for all the good it'll do you!" Terrance shouted, flipping the landlord the bird as he ran for the door. He'd always wanted to shout at his landlord, but there was never really an appropriate occasion for it.
As he ran out into the street, Terrance saw that people were staring at something in the distance. Three large zeppelins, the central one a red and black behemoth in the sky with two smaller white ones flanking it, all three bearing a swastika proudly. Feeling a stone drop into his stomach, Terrance bolted for the nearest manhole cover. Jamming the crowbar between the cover and the road, he pried open the manhole cover. Just as he got it off, he could hear a loud whistling sound. Looking up, he was just in time to see a bomb soar straight into Big Ben, causing the old clock tower to explode, sending ancient stone and clockwork crumbling to the streets. Jumping into the hole, Terrance grabbed the manhole cover and slid it back over the sewer entrance, plunging him into darkness.
Terrance clambered down the ladder in pitch darkness, eventually reaching the bottom and flicking on his torch. The thick stone walls muffled all sounds from above, but he could hear the explosions, the gunfire and the screams of innocents as they were slaughtered. A chill going down Terrance's spine, he began to walk through the sewer in an attempt to find someplace where he might be able to hide and wait out the fight going on above.
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
"So that's it, huh Terry?" Bert asked, dropping down a pair of twos. "Gotta say, I didn't believe you at first when you said Nazis were responsible for this."
"Yeah. Though I'm still confused as to how that little Schrödinger kid found me so quick. It was like he just appeared out of thin air." Terrance said, flipping over a king and a seven.
Looking at the river, Bert chuckled slightly. "Huh, two pair. You win." He muttered, taking a swig of the beer Terrance was so kind as to share. "So what about that radio? D'you think we can get it back?"
Terrance snorted a laugh as he shuffled the cards again. "Not likely. My flat's probably a pile of rubble by now. Though it would be nice to know just what the hell is going on up there." He said.
"Dunno if you'd even be able to get a signal down 'ere." Bert shrugged as Terrance dealt the cards. "Could try a couple of cans on a string."
"Hey, yeah." Terrance chuckled before taking another beer from his bag. "So how'd you get down here again? Didn't you say you had just tried to stabilise yourself again?"
"Yes, that I did." The old man sighed. "Unfortunately, didn't go exactly as planned. Things rarely do for me…"
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
Sheets of white paper were dropped back in front of Bert as the shop owner shook his head slightly.
"I'm sorry Bert, I don't think you've got good enough credentials. I don't think I'll be able to hire you even as an apprentice. Already got a few kids on the job." He said.
"Come on Derek, you've gotta help me out! I'd do anything to get a job, please!" Bert pleaded.
With a heavy sigh, Derek shook his head. "Sorry. I know you've had it rough these past few months, especially that fiasco with that bastard you call a landlord, but I've just got no spaces free. Besides, the work's dried up these past few months."
Bert sighed dejectedly and took his resume back. "Thanks anyway Derek."
"No problems." The builder said. "Hey, a word of advice though. It's probably a good idea to get out of London. Maybe head to the countryside."
"Why?" Bert asked.
"There's a little more work there. I hear Cheddar is needing some rebuilding after some serial killer tore up the place." Derek said.
Cracking a smile, Bert stood up to leave. "Thanks Derek. I'll see if I can go there tomorrow."
"Anytime." He said as Bert left the office. Night was fast approaching, so he thought that he'd better get back home.
Bert wandered through the London streets, his eyes glancing at all the seedy things going on around him.
'The world was better back in the old days.' Bert thought to himself. 'Nowadays everything is just about how much cash you can make before they stick ya in a pine box and dump your corpse in a grave.'
As he made his way to his apartment block, he saw that the middle aged woman at the desk was fastidiously sorting books.
"Evening Linda. Looking well." Bert said.
"Oh, Bert! Wait, I'm afraid I have some, er, rather bad news." The woman said quietly.
"What's happened?" Bert asked.
"Well… It's about the room." Linda said sadly. "As you know, I've been letting you stay in one of my vacant rooms for a while now until you can get some decent income. Unfortunately… It seems that we've been booked out. A group of backpackers came in tonight and rented out all our vacant rooms. I had to take all your things from your room."
"Oh, Linda…" Bert sighed.
"I'm sorry Bert, it's just that I… my son's condition has been getting worse of late and I can't pay for his medication and keep my hotel afloat with all that I currently have. I'm sorry Bert." Linda said.
"No, it's alright Linda. I've decided to move out to Cheddar tomorrow anyways. Nothing left for me in London." Bert said sadly. "I'm going to see if I can help rebuild the place. Maybe then they'll let me stay."
"Alright." Linda nodded before pulling a large hiking bag from behind the counter. "I managed to put everything in this bag you had in there. Even the uh… the gun."
"Oh yes, my old shotgun." Bert muttered quietly. "Thank you Linda. I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused."
"Oh don't be ridiculous Bert. It's the least I could do to help." She said. "Did you need money for the train? Do you have anywhere to spend the night?"
"Nah, I'll just walk there tonight. It's not too far to Cheddar." Bert smiled as he heaved the bag onto his shoulders. "It's like my Pa always said. Everything's within walking distance if ya walk long enough."
Linda made a thin smile and nodded. "Good luck." She said.
With a curt nod, Bert left the building and into the night. Bert smiled to himself as he walked through the packed London streets, looking towards his new future. Cheddar. It sounded like a nice enough place. Maybe it'd turn out alright after all.
But it was as he was walking that he saw a flash of movement above him. Looking up, he saw a rocket streak through the sky before disappearing over a few buildings. Moments later a violent explosion of orange and red flames roared over the buildings as many more explosions went off around the city! Running for a nearby alley, he tossed the bag from his shoulders and rifled through it, grabbing out his shotgun, a sawn-off double barrel with a torch taped to the end.
Another explosion rattled Bert's teeth, reminding him of his time as a near-infant child during the Blitz. How those bombs terrified him. Looking for a way to get away from the explosions and falling rubble, he looked down and saw a metal grate over one of the many London sewers. Grabbing a hold of it, Bert heaved as he lifted the grate away and tossed it aside. Looking to his bag, he knew he wouldn't be able to take everything with him. Another explosion rocked the ground and Bert jumped into the hole to escape from the fiery hell that London had become.
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
"Wow, that's pretty unfortunate." Terrance said as he handed Bert another beer. "Still, Cheddar's probably still going to be okay after all this is said and done."
"I hope so." Bert nodded. "But I just hope Linda made it out okay. When you said those bastards up there wanted to kill everyone in London, I felt my heart skip a beat."
Terrance sat in silence for a little while before taking another swig of his beer, the sounds of another bomb being dropped. "So what should we do now?" he asked.
Bert let out a heavy sigh as he dealt the cards again. "I guess we just wait it out, like a storm or a blizzard."
Terrance chuckled slightly and sighed. "I've always hated waiting. It just seemed like all I ever did. Waiting for a client to call, waiting for transactions to be made, waiting for the bus to arrive… always waiting, never really getting anywhere."
"I've felt that way too." Bert nodded. "I felt like that every time I had to live on handouts. When my parents couldn't support me, when I was always looking for work, even when trying to get a half-decent drink. Always just waiting."
As the two of them sat in silence, Terrance thought that he could hear something. Footsteps, shuffling, the occasional groan. Picking up his crowbar, he made his way to the door.
"What is it?" Bert asked.
"I think I can hear someone." Terrance said, unlocking the door and opening it just a crack. His eyes widened as he saw hundreds of purple glowing eyes in the darkness. Slamming the door shut and locking it again, Terrance pinned himself to the wall as hands began to beat on the iron door.
"The bloody hell is that?!" Bert shouted, grabbing his shotgun.
"I… I don't know! Zombies?" Terrance gulped. "Whatever those things are, they aren't human!"
As the things continued to bash against the door, Bert's teeth became slightly less on edge. "Well whatever these things are, they don't seem to be smart enough to use a screwdriver. I think you may be right about the zombie bit."
Looking through his bag, Terrance grimaced. "We've got enough food for a few days, but I don't think that human flesh rots in only a matter of days."
"That's a little morbid, but yer right." Bert sighed. "Why'd you have to go an' get em angry like that? This noise is driving me bloody crazy!"
"It's not my fault! I didn't know that there were bloody zombies out there!" Terrance shouted.
"It is your fault! If you just ignored it then we wouldn't be in this mess!" Bert roared.
Terrance was about to shout again before he stopped himself and took a deep, measured breath. "Okay, tensions are running a little high right now. I'm sorry for shouting at you like that. We've just got to keep ourselves calm, and not lose our heads."
Bert clenched his jaw and took a breath as well. "Good idea. No point in arguing now that we're both in the same boat."
Sitting back down at the makeshift table, the game commenced again, now with the chorus of a thousand beating hands on the door.
Hours passed, and the beating continued ceaselessly. But at this point, it seemed like the two of them were getting used to it. But that was until another noise was heard. The sound of blades slashing through flesh and gunfire could be heard just outside.
"Something's going on out there." Terrance said.
"More survivors?" Bert asked hopefully.
As the sounds of combat ceased, a bit of shuffling could be heard outside. A small click was heard and a single gunshot rang out as a large bullet smashed through the lock of the door, going straight through and into the makeshift table. The door was kicked open, revealing three white robed men in tall pointed hoods, each carrying an exceptionally large gun.
"More heathens! Prepare to join your fellow sinners in Hell, Prodestant swine!" shouted one of them as he levelled his gun at Bert.
Terrance leapt up and knocked the barrel of the gun away from Bert as the hooded man fired, a burst of bullets cracking into the concrete wall. Bert grabbed his shotgun and sprang from his seat, charging the man and slamming an elbow into his face, knocking him to the ground. The two behind him aimed their weapons in surprise, but Bert was faster with a less cumbersome weapon. With two shots, both the other hooded men fell, their lives ended by a parade of buckshot. The first man groaned and was about to get to his feet when Bert slammed a heel into his forehead, knocking the man's skull to the ground with a sickening crunch. Bert breathed heavily and stretched his spine with a groan.
"Been a while since I've had to move that much." He groaned while Terrance stared on with horror.
"Y-you just killed them. All three of them, dead." He muttered.
Bert sighed and reloaded his shotgun, dropping the empty shells on the ground and taking two new ones from his pockets. "Look Terry, there's one harsh reality of war. People die in war. I know it sounds obvious, but when someone tries to kill you the best response is to kill them right back. That Major fella said that this was supposed to be a war, didn't he?"
"I… I guess." Terrance said. "But still, we could've explained-!"
"No we couldn't have!" Bert shouted, interrupting Terrance. "If they were looking to save lives, they wouldn't have shot the lock off my door, they would've knocked! Besides, you heard what they said. Their fingers were on the trigger the whole time. They never intended to spare us."
Terrance sat in silence and nodded as Bert looked over the corpses.
"These men don't look like Nazis, do they Terry? No, if I had to guess I'd say that they were Catholics. But why some feet-kissing pew-sitters are making a militaristic stand in the middle of a Nazi invasion I've got no idea." Bert said in a low grumble. "But whatever their cause, they've shot the lock off my door."
"What do we do now then?" Terrance asked.
"Well this place isn't safe anymore. That much is certain." Bert said. "The only thing we can do I feel is go somewhere else. Move quickly and quietly, and hopefully try to avoid detection. Maybe we might find some other survivors here as well, maybe find someone who knows for sure what's going on."
Terrance got to his feet and nodded, picking up his crowbar and his bag of supplies. "Sounds good."
"You can leave the cards here. Probably won't need them anymore." Bert said as he flicked the torch on the end of his shotgun on and began to peer around the dark sewers.
"Alright, let's go." Terrance said, dropping the cards onto the table.
As they marched through the sewers, Terrance gripped his crowbar tightly. You can only be almost killed so many times in one night before you start getting jittery. Another muffled explosion sounded from above, shaking loose some more dust from the ceiling. But then, they heard the sound of a stone drop behind them. Looking back, Terrance saw that a bomb seemed to have shaken loose part of the sewer brickwork. Unfortunately for them, that meant that the sewer was now collapsing behind them!
"Oh shit, run!" Terrance shouted as he and Bert began to sprint for their lives on the wet concrete below them.
Leaping over troughs of water, their legs pumped like pistons as they fled from the avalanche of brick behind them. As they continued to run, Bert shone his torch further up.
"It looks like a dead end!" he shouted.
"No, it's a corner!" Terrance gasped as they got closer. As they rounded the bend Terrance slipped and fell. Scrambling to his feet, he could see the rapidly approaching wall of death.
"We don't have bloody time for this!" Bert screamed as he grabbed Terrance by the shirt and pulled him along behind him before Terrance started running himself.
Eventually the thundering sound of the falling rubble stopped. They stopped, bent double with exhaustion as they looked at the wall of fallen rubble, concrete and tarmac from the streets above. Leaning up against a wall, Bert tried to catch his breath again.
"It doesn't... look like we're... going back that way... again." he huffed.
Terrance breathed an agreement before he spotted something in the distance. A few small pinpricks of light in the dark. As Bert shined his torch on it, he saw that it was a ladder!
"Hey, I think that leads to the surface." Terrance said.
"Alright, let's go investigate." Bert nodded.
As they walked towards the ladder, Terrance looked up the manhole exit and something dripped onto his face!
"Eurgh! I think some sewer water dripped on my face!" Terrance spat, before noticing that the water didn't taste like water should. Wiping a little of the liquid from his face he flicked on his own torch and saw that his hand was bloody!
"That's not water Terry." Bert muttered as he shone his light upwards. Above them was a manhole cover, but it was dripping blood! "Looks like the streets have turned into rivers of blood. Something almost biblical about that isn't there?"
"Oh god." Terrance gulped, wiping the rest of the blood from his face with his sleeve. "That's disgusting."
"Disgusting, but helpful." Bert said. "If there're dead people around, then that means that there's nobody who wants to kill us about. Can't you hear it? It's all quiet up there."
Terrance paused to listen as well, the only sound he could hear was the trickling of the water in the sewer beside him. "You're right. Shouldn't we stay down here though?"
"They haven't been dropping bombs for ages 'cept that last blast, and it's dead quiet up there. All the fighting's happening elsewhere. Not to mention it smells of nothing but crap down here." Bert said. "I think that's more than enough reasons. Besides, we can always scrounge for some supplies."
Terrance thought a minute longer before nodding. "Alright. Let's get out of here."
"You first." Bert said, opting to let Terrance climb the ladder underneath the manhole cover dripping with blood.
Bracing himself, Terrance began to climb the ladder that was slick with blood, feeling more droplets of ichor splatter against his face. As he reached the top he pushed aside the manhole, seeing a small stream of blood flowing into the sewers below. As Terrance got out of the sewers, he offered a hand to Bert.
"Here, let me help you up." He said as Bert grabbed his hand.
"Thanks Terry, I owe you one." Bert nodded in thanks before his jaw dropped in horror. "What in the name of all that is holy…"
Corpses littered the street as far as the eye could see. Men, women, children, infants, elderly, people of all races and creeds lay dead in the streets in front of them, all their blood coming together to form a giant puddle of red blood. Around them, buildings were in a state of destruction. Shattered windows, crumbling walls and destroyed concrete was all around them, forming piles of rubble and giving the entire street a desolate, wasteland look that Terrance thought could only be seen in war movies.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Terrance gulped, putting a hand to his mouth. However that only made it worse, as now he could taste the blood on the ravaged streets.
"Whoever did this can no longer consider themselves human beings." Bert said with a furious scowl.
Terrance looked around and gulped. "Well, we can worry about this later. Right now we-" he began before he saw something that caused him to stop mid-sentence. "What the… what the hell is going on?!"
The blood on the ground was beginning to move. Not by gravity, or by wind, but all of its own accord. Bert and Terrance stared in horror as the puddle of blood began to move faster and faster until a rumbling sound at the other end of the street could be heard. Looking over, they saw a biblical sized river of blood hurtling towards them at a terrifying speed.
"Get off the street!" Terrance shouted as he and Bert sprinted to the ruined buildings. The river of blood rushed past them as they leapt to higher ground, taking the form of an overturned car. Terrance watched as the blood on his hands, the bottom of his shoes and even the blood that had been soaked into his clothes turned into droplets that disappeared into the rushing river of blood.
"What the hell is happening? Is this the apocalypse?" Bert asked.
"I'm not all that familiar with the order of things, but don't the four horsemen appear first?" Terrance asked with a slight chuckle.
"Heh, aye. And what about that rain of frogs?" Bert laughed.
As the two watched the surreal sight before them, Terrance took the bag off his back and pulled out two more bottles of beer. "You know, if this really is the apocalypse then I think God might forgive us for having another couple of rounds. He knows we'll need it."
"Well said." Bert said, taking another bottle and opening it.
"Shame we didn't bring the cards." Terrance muttered before taking another swig.
"Aye, but I don't think we'd be able to play that well on the body of an upturned car." Bert shrugged.
"But one question I've got is where is all this blood going? And where's it all coming from?" Terrance asked.
"How should I know?" Bert laughed. "But in all honesty, I don't think we want to know the answer to yer other question."
"I'm just saying, it's got to run out eventually." He shrugged.
The two sat in silence once more, solemnly watching the horrifically literal river of life rush by them on all sides.
"You know, I never liked London." Bert muttered. "It's filthy, it's cold, it's wet, the pubs are awful, the people are worse, and the coppers just don't give a damn. But I met some good people here. I'll be sorry to see 'er go."
"You don't think they'll rebuild? Maybe make it better?" Terrance asked.
"Look around Terry. This isn't London anymore. Even the Blitz didn't wreck the place this bad." Bert said, indicating to the destruction all around him. "They'll probably just pick up their roots and carry themselves off to make a new capital somewhere else. This place'll just fall into even more ruin before it becomes nothing but a memory. It'll go from there to legend, then myth, then very soon, nothing at all."
"Maybe." Terrance said, a small smirk on his lips. "Or maybe we won't give up. This is just a setback. This place can be rebuilt. Maybe even made a little bit better. You'll see. This isn't the end of London."
Bert chuckled lightly before letting out a wistful sigh. "Maybe for you it's not, but for me it is." Bert said. "I'm old. Too old. I've been living on borrowed time for a long time now that I think about it. One of these days I'll just be too old to go on anymore. But don't worry, when this old candle goes out I'll be just as full of piss and vinegar as I was when I was eighteen years old! Hahahaha!"
"Damn right!" Terrance laughed. "I think that calls for another drink!"
As the two of them drank together and laughed, the sun began to eek over the horizon.
"Well, wouldja look at that." Bert said. "Never thought I'd see a sunrise in London."
"It's always hidden behind the buildings. Guess that's something." Terrance said as he drained the bottle. "Think the whole river of blood thing is slowing down too."
True to Terrance's word, the river of crimson slowly started to run dry until the corpses on the road were nothing but withered husks, the road completely dry. Jumping down from the car, Terrance turned to Bert.
"Come on, we'd better keep looking for survivors." He said, offering a hand to Bert.
"Sure, sure. I just ran out of beer anyways." Bert laughed as he got down from the car.
The two of them walked for a good while, observing the damage on the streets as the sun began to rise higher and higher.
"Can you see the blimps anymore?" Terrance asked.
"No, they must've flown away." Bert said, scratching his beard.
"Why'd they come on blimps anyway? Haven't they heard of fixed wing aircraft?" Terrance joked.
"Aye, bet they don't know how to even fly a plane!" Bert laughed.
Almost out of nowhere, a huge explosion rocked the ground and blasted wind through the air, a great orange, red and yellow cloud of fire bursting up in the distance.
"Bloody hell was that?!" Bert shouted.
"I've got no idea." Terrance said shakily.
Bert looked over to Terrance and saw that, in his great surprise of the blast, he'd fallen over. "C'mere. Let me give you a hand." Bert chuckled.
"Thanks Bert." Terrance said as he was hauled to his feet. "Right. I think we should go check out what made that noise. I think anybody who heard that might also be investigating."
"Hold it!" shouted a voice from behind them. Bert and Terrance whipped around to see a young, very tired looking woman with shattered spectacles and a missing eye shadowed by another young woman in a dark red uniform, ripped stockings and blond hair.
"Who are you?" Bert asked, clutching his shotgun.
"I think a better question is who are you?" The woman said.
"I'm Terrance, and this is Bert. When we saw the zeppelins and heard the bombs, we went into the sewers where we met." Terrance explained.
"Then… then you're all that's left." The woman said, both aghast and dismayed. "Eight million people, and only two of you survived."
"Only… only two?" Bert asked.
"We're still getting the reports, but it doesn't look like anyone else has made it out alive." The woman said. "Eight million people. An entire city, gone in a single night. And you. You're the only two that made it."
Terrance looked around, the weight of their calamity finally sinking in. While people died upon the hundreds and thousands, he and Bert were sitting in relative comfort and peace below the city, drinking beer and playing card games. The thought of it sickened him.
"Well, I suppose you two will want an explanation of all… this." The woman sighed heavily.
"Aye, but what's your name first?" Bert asked.
"Integra." She said. "Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. But just for now, you may call me Integra. I don't think I want to deal with formality after everything that's just happened. Seras. Find a us car and bring it around. We're going home."