One
Present Time:
"Lana!" Brad called over a loud banging sound. "Wake up! We're under attack again!" He yelped helplessly. His voice quavering.
Noise bustled all around me. I suddenly remembered where I was. My eyes fluttered open quickly. I was staring at the top of our make-shift tent stitched from old clothes. There was a large rip in one pair of jeans, and a gigantic hole where I guessed a shirt used to hang. The next thing I noticed was the noise. Loud, continuous banging. Artillery guns, I thought. A shrill hissing noise screamed across the dark, star-lit sky close by. It was louder than the machine guns. It was a demon dying. One of the same demons we'd been fighting for the past two and a half years. Since the apocalypse began.
I struggled to sit up. My left arm was still in a sling, but it felt good, rested. I searched around for Brad. After a second of my eyes adjusting to the surprisingly bright area around me, I saw him fighting off one of the demons with fire poker he'd doused in holy water. This demon had the head of a deranged, decaying boar. It's skin was molded and flaky. It's tongue hung lazily out of it's mouth, and flies circled round.
In a split second, I was on my feet. I nearly fell back from dizziness. My head rushed, twisted, twirled, and did loops as I tried to regain my balance. I now realized why it was so bright out.
"Our tent!" I yelled, but my voice was muffled by the quarrel, and artillery guns. I couldn't even hear myself. I only felt the words on my lips.
I gazed in terror at the singeing remains of our tent. It seemed everything was a-blaze around me. Fires burned high in loops like giant Cheerios. I turned just in time to come face-to-face with a demon. It had the head of a black crocodile. It's eyes glowed bright orange in the fire. They were filled with a frightening confidence. They were filled, with evil.
I reached blindly for a weapon. Anything metal, sharp, anything that could kill this horrid beast who dared breath my air. What did I produce? A scrap of
wood. It was partially burnt, and very brittle. I knew it would only anger the demon, but if I didn't want to be demon chow, I had to do something. I chucked it at the demons long, ferocious crocodile snout, and bolted toward the sound of Brad screaming.
I didn't get far before I heard the demon coming after me. I grabbed a metal spike out of the ground. It, like everything else here, was soaking wet with holy water. I turned to face the demon again. It hissed, keeping it's eyes on the spike I guessed used to be part of a once glorious, now rusted railroad track. The demon made a grunting sound, and backed away, it's eyes not leaving the spike.
After the demon had fled, I whirled around, and sprinted again towards Brad. I was closing in. Thirty yards, twenty, fifteen, ten... Suddenly I was spiraling upwards in the sky by the grip of gnarled hands that belonged to the crocodile faced demon. I shook, and screamed, and thrashed about, but the demon only climbed higher. What is it planning to do? I thought. I soon got my answer.
Once we were around forty yards above the soft brown dirt, the demon's grip began to loosen. Soon, it let go, leaving me plummeting towards my death. As I fell, I did not see my life flash before my eyes. But in a way, I did see my life. I saw Brad, my brother, fighting a demon with a lion's head.
Then I heard the excruciating crunch of my bones beneath me as I slammed into the hard earth. I sucked what I believed to be my last breath, and everything went black.