John sat on the edge of the building, his legs dangling over the side, gazing down at the desolate town below. It had been two weeks since the attack-an attack that turned his once-vibrant town into a ghostly shell of its former self. It felt like only minutes ago that his life, along with countless others, was destroyed in an instant by creatures that seemed to have crawled straight out of hell itself.
As a freshman in college studying musical arts, John had a promising future ahead of him. He had been a heavy lifter for a construction company in his early twenties before finally being accepted into the college in upstate town Pawling, New York. He had moved away from his parent's small house in Columbus, Ohio, and eagerly awaited the start of his classes. During his initial days in town, he explored and tried to meet new people, often finding comfort in the local cafe and library while reading up on study material and searching for part-time work.
It was during midday that very Monday when things took a turn for the worst, while he sat in his newly favourite cafe playing a game of sudoku, he heard and felt a thunderous roar in the sky, followed by shadows streaking across the ground, and a ground shaking series of thuds. Car sirens were wailing, people were confused and dumbstruck, and so was John. Had this been an attack? Were we at war? All questions buzzed through people's minds as they scrambled outside to see what had happened, this would be a grave mistake.
John had sensed something sinister about this, fear turned to all-right terror as screams rang from outside the cafe. It must have been an attack, he concluded, however, he heard no gunshots but sounds of utter chaos. He luckily silenced the urge to figure out what the foe was and decided to hide. He darted from his table, jumped and slide over the countertop where the register sat, and ran through the double doors leading to the kitchen. There he calmed down and slowly looked around; It was small, had no doors leading outside, no windows and there was a door to his left that had a sign reading "Henry's Office". This was the Cafe's owner and should suffice as a hiding spot until things calmed down and he could figure out what was happening, he walked up to the brown wooden door and twisted the silver knob, the door opening with ease and he quickly stepped in and closed it behind him.
The office was small and had a plastic table, 2 chairs and a CCTV system that sat mounted on the wall by the farthest left corner of the room, showing 6 feeds. Perfect, he thought, he could see what was going on outside, and know when it was safe. He quietly moved the folding chair closest to him and propped himself in front of the monitor, he didn't know how long he would have to wait to find answers, but his breath caught in his throat.
The 3rd feed showed a camera facing the entrance to the cafe, he saw people running and screaming in terror, he expected to see gunmen mow them down, or some cloud of gas being released causing panic and frenzy, but he instead saw a slender figure, with inhuman proportions run past the storefront and subsequently impale a lady with speed and ease. The blood in John's face ran thin, he will truly die, this is the end.
John had zoned out and caught himself from slipping off the edge of the building, but he sighed, What is the point of me staying alive anyway? he asked himself. Tears started to well up inside him, he lost contact with his family that very day too, minutes before it happened here. He was on a phone call with his mum, talking about his new timetable and classes, he was so excited, barely able to contain himself in public, then she suddenly called out for his father, something spooked her, badly. He had never heard his mother afraid of something, other than horror films, but something was wrong, she hung up abruptly, and he wasn't able to call her back, nor his father or sister.
He had initially guessed it was something mundane, well compared to the current situation, like old neighbour Alan falling over in the garden, or someone reversing into Dad's new Hyundai.
He simply waited and played Sudoku, like an idiot, he should have done more, he should of...
This tore at his mind and stabbed his heart, he wasn't there with his family, he could have done more, and he feels their death is on his hands.
John took in a deep breath and sighed, slide back from the edge onto the roof and stood up. He thought it was best to push aside those thoughts if he was wanting to survive, he had tasks that needed to be done. John walked over to the corner of the roof, where a pipe ran from the gutter to the ground, he knelt and carefully swung his feet over the edge, before finding a footing on the width of the pipe. Slowly edging down, he reached the bottom, before making his way around the front of the building via a left alleyway. He cringed as he sidestepped some bodies that littered the path, before making it to the front. "Henry's espresso and breakfast" was in bold writing on both windows leading into the cafe, as John pushed inside, the musty smell of old food hit him. He looked towards the cabinets that sat on the L-shaped countertop that ran the length of the left wall, and the rear wall, which had a door leading to the kitchen. The cabinets still had some items left within them, and due to the power outage that happened only a few days ago, things were starting to go bad. John would have to clear out the cabinets, and any remaining perishables, just so this place would be remotely livable. John did have an apartment but he chose to live here instead, for the moment of course.
After everything settled on the day of the attack, he had made his way to his apartment building down the road but it was in an unlivable condition. It was a small apartment complex, similar to a motel, and the door to his room was ripped open, and one of the walls was broken through, revealing the wood and insulation. He had grabbed his bag, water bottle and pillow, the rest of his stuff was buried under parts of the wall that had been smashed through.
John walked through the cafe, around the L-shaped counter and pushed through the door leading to the kitchen and finally into his bedroom where he started formulating a plan for the day.
He needed a bed, sleeping on the floor was no good, even with a pillow. He needed food, such as canned goods, basic medicine and especially water. Such as water cooler jugs, or stacks of plastic water bottles. Finally, he needed to clear out all the spoilt food in the cafe before the smell made it's way into his room, so bin bags, cleaning agent, basic soap and water will work, and paper towels. That will be the easiest task since the cafe should already have all that stuff in the kitchen, however, it will be the most unpleasant. Mouldy cakes, spoilt sandwiches, off milk. But he would have to get used to unpleasantries if he wanted to survive, he couldn't just sit that task out.
He rummaged around in his backpack, fished out his notebook and pen and started drawing out a rough map of the buildings around him. He wanted to make his trips efficient, he noted that he was on Broad St, just left of a small library, and to his right was a main road that lead past a fuel station, and several restaurants when going down. Upwards were residential properties, which he wanted to avoid for obvious reasons until necessary since that is where everyone typically fled.
This was going to be the first time John left the cafe, he only really went up on the roof today and yesterday, before that he was too afraid to leave the office.
Exploring down the main road seemed to be his best next step, see if he can find any stores that look promising, maybe even a fuel station, for as useless as a car will be, not only due to half the town's roads being blocked already with crashed vehicles, but the noise certainly would bring unwanted attention. However, a fuel station contained the bare essentials, canned goods, water bottles, a first aid kit, and maybe even a sleeping bag if he was extra lucky. That would tick off all the essentials.
With that John emptied his backpack, slipping a small water bottle in, his notebook and pen. He didn't believe he needed anything else, he then slipped on the backpack and quietly crept to the door out of the office.
Opening it ajar, he listened for any noises that would indicate an otherly presence, nothing came, so he walked out and made his way outside. Side-stepping the body that lay crumpled in front of the building, he stepped onto the road and started his careful walk to the right. Normally walking on the road in a deserted town would be a terrible idea, he is exposed, but the creatures that attacked only see sound, by John's observations. So walking on the roads made sure he had ample visibility and breathing room in case he had to escape.
As he walked, he couldn't help but look on at the broken bodies strewn across the ground, the carnage, cars with bodies inside, smashed windscreens, and torn-off doors. The sight alone was terrible, but the silence that engulfed the town was equally unsettling, there was not a single sound, other than the breeze going through some distant trees. No planes that flew overhead, no AC units that ran in buildings, especially no cars. This in turn made things dangerous John realised, there was no background noise to mask him so he had to be extra careful when exploring. He luckily had left his shoes at home, only wearing socks, in hopes they would still offer some feet protection while masking the sound of his steps.
He reached the T in the road and looked both ways, a bit of a habit at this point, saw nothing out of the ordinary and took a right. The street in front of him was in complete disarray, bodies were littered everywhere, and glass shards and fragments were scattered all across the ground in front of shops, which John took extra care when stepping over, both for the sake of his feet, but also to not make too much noise.
As he walked, he peered into shop fronts to take note of anything interesting, nothing exactly stood out on the first few buildings down, just filled with blood, people and broken furniture. He reached his first T in the road, before crossing the street he quickly brushed off small glass fragments from his socks before thinking of which route to take, he could loop back around to the cafe on the small road to the right, keeping his search close to home so less risk, but he decided he could just go that way when he comes back.
Continuing straight, past a few more buildings his luck finally struck a petrol station. It stood proud, despite the bodies and wrecked vehicles strewn around it, but it seemed in relatively good condition with no broken windows or doors. Taking in his surroundings, making sure nothing was out of order he walked around the pumps and stopped at the door, because of the style of town he believed that there was a high chance of this door having a bell, rather than something electronic to notify staff of entering customers, not being electric means it would still be an issue. John was too cautious to attempt the front door, so he looked around for a path leading to the back, which he found on the left of the building and followed the wall around before arriving at a slightly worn, grey wooden door. He tested the handle, and his luck remained as it made a quiet click, opening.
Holding his breath, hoping that there isn't any battery-operated alarms or the such, he opened the door and was met with a dark backroom accompanied by a pleasant silence. Taking this opportunity he walked through and set out to find all the items from his checklist, to his immediate left was a folding chair and table that was littered with coffee cups and paperwork, he grabbed an empty cup and wedge the door open with it. In case I need a quick and quiet escape he summarised.
After his eyes adjusted to the dim backroom, he saw 2 rows of metal shelves to his right, in front of which was a door that most likely led to the back of the fridges for restocking. He went over to the shelves and searched top and bottom, quickly finding items he didn't even think of adding. Toilet paper, wet wipes, toothbrush and toothpaste, protein bars, muesli bars, ibuprofen and of course a small selection of the items he sought to find.
He knelt, quietly dropped his bag and unzipped it, soon layering the soft items in between the hard ones, in hopes of alleviating the sound which he also padded with some cloths. After a few minutes, he had a reasonable selection of toiletries, canned goods, muesli bars, and a first aid kit. He left his bag there as he walked around the backroom some more, back over to the folding table and chair, to the right of it was a small cupboard with a bin next to it, he quietly pulled out the draws and fished around the paperwork and junk, before finding a fresh roll of bin bags held together with an elastic band. John then walked back over to the bag, plopped the bin bags beside it and approached the door that led to the main part of the fuel station, testing the handle and finding it was open, he walked inside and started to scout the rows of shelves for any more useful items.
Most were just novelty stuff and snacks, nothing stood out except for a few branded shirts and shorts, shrugging John picked out a few pairs in his size and placed them beside the door to the backroom. He then walked over to the right, just by the entrance where the was a bathroom sign just above a door, that would be where he would find his soap, maybe even bleach, mop and bucket. Entering there was a single toilet and sink opposite to it, a pretty lacklustre bathroom, but besides the toilet were the aforementioned cleaning supplies, he gently picked up the mop and bleach, making sure nothing rattled or fell, and dropped it by the T-shirts and shorts by the backroom door, before doubling back quickly to grab the bucket, however, he remembered he needed soap, and looked to the sink. There was a mirror above it and beside it was a soap dispenser, rats he sighed, he wouldn't be able to take the wall with him and trying to remove the thing would make too much noise.
"Wait...I wonder..." He mouthed, he saw on top of the dispenser a keyhole, one that kept the unit together. He thought he saw a key inside the drawer in the backroom, bingo.
John was back home and was laying out the supplies in front of him, all except bedding however he guessed he could simply lay out the clothing and use that as padding for the night. "Can't have all the comforts just yet." He whispered to himself while carefully laying out the cans in a square shape in the corner of the room, he didn't want to stack them as that carried the risk of them falling and bringing unwanted attention. His watch vibrated and he looked at the time, 14:00 it read, "Damn I better get a move on, I don't have a torch so I cannot work in the dark." With that John stood and grabbed the mop, bucket and bleach, walking out to the front of the shop, doubling back for the bin bags. He opened the cabinets and was met with the foul odour of spoiling food, he held back a cough, remembering the need for volume control and he held his breath, and got to work.
John carried the half-full bin bag outside and walked to the back alleyway, found a suitable dumpster and carefully lowered the bag inside, before letting out a quiet sigh and looking at his watch. It had taken him an hour to get everything clean, it was a bit pedantic but there was no way he would be living with that smell, he spared a water bottle to dilute the bleach to aid in removing the smell completely, he still had a couple from the cafe's fridges but would certainly need to go out and get some more tomorrow, do some more scouting and venture further in hopes of finding more supplies. In retrospect, he could survive for a couple of weeks with what he has right now, but he needed a purpose, he needed a distraction in hopes to figure out what to do going forwards.
After reaching his 'bedroom' he unfolded the few pairs of clothes he got from the petrol station and layered them in hopes it would be good enough and laid down. "One small step at a time John, that is how you get through this." He whispered to himself, wishing it was in his mother's voice. With that, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.