World War T
In the few remaining minutes between Anthony T. Miller's sighting of the behemoth and his quick, inhumane death, he knew in the back of his mind that the end of humanity was at hand.
It was unusual, it seemed to him, that such a beautiful, cloudless day could precede the destruction of all he understood. In fact, it was the first sunny day in quite a while, in a small, modern town just to the north of Manchester, Miller's place of residence. All the citizens of the town had been gladdened by such a reversal of weatherly fortunes, and sodden umbrellas and raincoats were rapidly discarded by the citizen populace. Miller himself had been awoken that morning by a single ray of sunlight, peeping through the half-open blinds. He dressed casually, while still trying to maintain a business-like attire for his job in a well-known accounting office.
Deciding to grab a coffee on his trek to work, he had flirted with Barbara, a full-time employee of the coffee-house across the street. He had ordered a weak latte, and was just turning the doorknob to leave when a tremor ran through the ground.
It was slight, barely sloshing his drink in his hand. The activity in the shop paused, nevertheless, and customers taking advantage of the free WiFi moved their drinks away from their computers in case the tremor was only a preshock, and the more cowardly looked for a strong doorway or piece of furniture to hide under if the shake was serious. They were not disappointed; another shake, slightly stronger, rocked the house. A third of the customers decided that they would be better safe than sorry and asked Barbara, herself frozen, if by any chance the shop contained a fortified cellar. She shook her head.
Two more tremors shook the floor; they seemed to be almost rhythmic, spacing between five seconds. Several car alarms started howling, adding an almost dramatic background music for an unusual occurrence. Miller started to panic. He had experienced only two earthquakes in his life, and they lasted only a few moments before life resumed. He rummaged through his head for a possible solution to the problem of his safety. Of course, as many panicked brains do, more efficient and safer options were skipped entirely, leading to his work cellar. The cellar! The accounting office was only a few feet away; if he hurried and the rhythmic beating continued, he'd be perfectly safe.
Miller turned to the door (he was still holding the knob, he noted) and pushing it open, ran as fast as he could, ignoring a cry of "Anthony, don't!" from Barbara. He only made it several steps before a horrendous crunching came from the end of the block, a wailing and screeching noise that belonged in the torturous depths of hell. Shivers, no, shakes of fear trickled down his back. He slowly turned around and gasped.
A deformed, grinning face was turned to him, a mask of nightmares. A monster, monster, monster, his brain screamed. A behemoth, a giant, a freak, a, a Titan! Blood streamed from its mouth and dripped slowly down its bare, bulbous chest. It seemed to have ripped apart a grocery store in search of the Asian store owner, half of whom still clutched in its tiny hand. It smirked at him, an awful, awful smirk that froze Miller to his bones. He stood stock still as it lumbered up from its knees and started walking over to him, shaking the ground so much that cars a block away started bouncing up and down, causing the din of the car alarms to increase several-fold.
Miller felt himself lifting up, up, up to a leering, cavernous mouth. His brain was ice, his muscles were numb, his eyes were dimming. He saw the behemoth from a closer (too close too close) vantage point. A female, perhaps? The eyes were bulging and the mouth twisted, but it did have human traits. Suddenly, he heard Barbara screech, saw her run out of the shop amid terrified cries from the customers. She yelled, her feminine figure and its apron seeming almost like Barbie next to a shaved gorilla. Barbara hit the behemoth, her fist weakly slapping against its ankle. The Titan paused, Miller dangling in the air 4 meters above the ground, and regarded Barbara with a dumb, glazed expression in its eyes. The horrid smirk still lingered. The foot, on which Barbara was still attached, punching and slapping, slowly lifted up. Then it kicked her.
Barbara was flung into the accounting building Miller was trying so desperately to reach. A sickening splat echoed, and the wall seemed to crack around her. Barbara was barely recognizable; her back and arms were crushed and her grey matter was partially exposed. Miller's coworker's, suddenly exposed to the light, blinked then screamed. Miller did nothing, only watched with the sad look of a doomed man. The Titan, almost gently, dangled him over it and opened its jaws wide. Miller took one last glance at the world, saying nothing; he had bit his tongue in sheer terror not more than a minute ago. His eyes widened as, over the hills, the sun gleamed off the skin of countless behemoths. He caught only a glimpse, his last dying look, before the jaws closed over his chest.
Hello, hello. This is my first SNK work, and I hope you like it. I hope to make this a multi-chapter thing, but let's see how the school-work goes. Sorry if this seems a little rushed, it's the opening and I want to get on to the fun stuff! If you have any questions, want to point something out I've done wrong, or just want to chat (I do like friends, plus I need to discuss my Marco feels) please PM me or write a review. This isn't a cross-over, BTW, no zombies here.