Chapter 1

Desolate were the streets. Street lamps flickered and sparked before all but one burnt out leaving the street in a haunting twilight. No light shone from the windows of the towering structures, all but one. That one was the hospital, its unmistakable red cross hiding its true fate behind a symbol of eternal benevolence. The front doors were large twin glass panes brightly illuminated compared to the pale moonlight outside. A terror filled shriek of a woman echoed out into the streets.

A young woman in a gown fell to the ground in a spray of blood. Conan looked on in horror from the doorway. His thin frame frozen in a combination of awe and fear. His deep green eyes peering through curtains of auburn at the beast. The blood splattered against the wall next to him. A monster, like a hunchback, looked over at him with its small beady eyes. The bubbling mass that made up its head was glossy with fresh blood, as was a long razor-like claw on its right arm. The beast gave a loud screech and extended its claw to its side. Conan's instincts threw the door shut locking the monster inside. The beast hit the heavy door and gave an irritated screech.

Through the thin plexiglass window Conan could see the bloodlust in the creature's distorted eyes. Conan stumbled backwards and looked up and down the hall of the ER. Bodies of the slain littered the area. His mind was overwhelmed with the now distant memory of his patients.

Mr Hoffman, a heart attack patient, came in last night. He was a man of good cheer despite his grim prognosis. Always cracking a joke every time he would give him some medication.

Conan shook the image from his mind and grabbed his backpack from the nurse's station. A dead colleague whom he barely recognized as the department head nurse sat dead in her seat, her head missing, only a few strings of flesh consulted for the severed head in a pool of blood and ichor. He dumped the contents of his backpack across the desk, papers and documents of a countless number were strewed out across the desk and onto the floor.

Grabbing a key from the dead department head he made his way to the supplies closet. Jabbing the key into the lock he flung the door open with a metallic clang. In a single motion he swept as many medical supplies as he could fit.

"Syringes, various medicines, gauze, medical tape..." he repeated, running through his habitual checklist.

Not bothering to shut the cabinet he threw the small backpack over his shoulder. Looking at his destination of the ER exit to the lobby he saw another fimiler body, Mrs. Price.

"Grumpy ol' Mrs. Price," as she was known among the staff. She always seemed to have some aliment. This time she complained of pain in her chest, a fair thing to be concerned about, Conan thought. She was never polite and much of the staff wasn't very fond of serving her requests.

He shook his head at her mutilated body. She lay just affront the exit to the lobby, her bowels laying out in a wet pile beside her. Conan stood spellbound by such a violent death. The whole ER seemed to fall silent, despite the trapped creature's wails.

The silence of his mind was broken with the unmistakable shatter of glass. He whirled around to the creature again, only this time shimmering crystal littered its bulbous head. It gave an ear-piercing screech as it extended it's bloodstained claw.