Chapter 2: Escape

  Erik’s skin grew frosty, and it had been a while since the demon dog had left. He had to climb back into the house and find something to dry himself with, then find some clothes—the owner of the house was Erik’s size, meaning there should be at least some clothes for him to wear inside. Erik could only hope that his friend and his family were okay somewhere else.

  He crossed to the other side of the roof ridge once more before climbing down the wet roof. With nary a sound, he leapt the slight distance over to the window and climbed back in, his blood rushing just from that rather simple act. He felt a bit like a burglar as he climbed in through the window. It was thrilling.

  Erik had been gone for three months, but he wasn’t dead. He’d been in Afterlife, a place for people like him that were awakening to their bloodline. Equipped with some sort of emotion-dampening effect, Afterlife had kept him from mourning his mother—and her death had hit him like a freight train when he returned just hours ago. He remembered being perfectly happy over there, wherever Afterlife was.

  However, Erik was also starting to think that maybe the emotion-dampening was still in effect. Why else would he climb back down from the roof when one of those demonic…things could sniff him out whenever? He wasn’t brave. Why hadn’t he considered this before starting his climb back down? Why wasn’t he stopping now?

  Something had ravaged the bedroom. Inside, the upturned bed bled its down and springs, and outside, fresh claw marks made mud drip down the walls. The wardrobe he’d spotted earlier still stood, even though something had crushed the doors into splinters. He rummaged through it, finding some clothes to wear that fit him all right and drying himself off with others. At least he wouldn’t need a belt. Erik’s face lit up, relieved that the trousers fit him.

  Dry and dressed, he snuck back into the hallway, heading further down rather than back to the stairs. The third door, this one on the opposite side of the others, revealed a bathroom. Erik felt a sudden urge to drink, and he charged at the tap to open it. A cold liquid sputtered out, smelling like plasticky water. Still, he put his mouth beneath the tap and drank several mouthfuls before the sputtering intensified. Soon enough there was no more water coming through; the remains in the pipes were all he’d get for now.

  He entered the hallway again, continuing towards the fourth door at the very end. A sudden smell he couldn’t place wafted through his nostrils, sending him over the edge. He retched as the rotten smell of meat entered his olfactory organ and wouldn’t leave. Even as he started breathing with his mouth, he could taste the horrid, spoiled scent. Still, he found the will to continue.

  Before reaching the last door, his foot kicked something rigid. He stooped, feeling around with his hands for the obstacle in his way. His fingers touched a familiar shape and, after realising the horror of what he touched, he hurled himself back in a panicked tumble.

  More stomach acid left his mouth as the sensation of touching the child’s long-since rotted corpse remained in the skin of his hand. He ran past the bathroom door, down the hall, and continued down the stairs, scrambling to get away from the horrid stench, unbothered by the sound of his steps and the racket he made.

  He tumbled down the last few steps of the stairs, landing in a roll into the doorway. The slight respite allowed him to gather his thoughts once more whilst his eyes moistened again, this time with a mix of fear and disgust rather than grief. With a more composed focus, Erik searched through the ground floor in a hurried haste for anything useful.

  It was there that he stumbled upon—literally—the child’s father in the broken remains of the kitchen in search of a flashlight; his friend for twenty years. Not just dead, but abandoned. Left to rot in his own home with his child only a floor away. What had happened during Erik’s absence for his home to end up so…horrible?

  Despite cursing himself for even thinking of doing it, Erik searched the putrid corpse, finding it mauled and broken. By some miracle, he found a cell phone in one pocket, still whole yet out of power.

  Stealing a pair of shoes, Erik headed outside whilst trying to keep his head raised high, remembering to tread lightly as the looming threat of the monstrous dog was far from over. His hands were trembling, white as winter snow. His warm breath was like steam in the cold air as the rain had subsided. He considered his options, prioritising getting to Jessie as quickly as possible—far away from this place.

  First, though, he headed toward the town centre. Sadly, it was the same direction he’d heard the monster go earlier. It was the quickest way south he could think of, and to find Jessie he had to cross not just the Empire’s border, but also the ocean.

  The promise made to his best friend—to find her and continue their reborn lives together as magical entities—was too important to ignore. How he was supposed to get to the United Britain if everything was in shambles, he didn’t know, but damn it if he wasn’t going to try. He’d experienced nothing but warmth, fun, and joy the past three months of his life, if life after death could truly be called that. Jessie was the reason, and he needed that again now that the sorrow of losing his family had forced its way back.

  Erik crested the last hill just as the sky bled from a blackened blue to dirty teal. Below, what had once been Erik’s hometown was little more than splinters under the pale light. He’d already known this would be how he found it after he passed the first houses. Charred frames, overturned cars, and power lines snapped like broken bones.

  The smell of smoke still clung to the air, invading him like a sickening sweetness that coated his throat with every breath. It wasn’t just burnt wood; it was worm-ridden garbage from knocked-over bins and murdered pets and people alike, though the latter was luckily not in clear view.

  He moved along the outskirts of town, skirting around twisted metal and shattered glass. The beasts, for there were more of them here, roamed the centre of town in a random pattern, forcing Erik to steer clear of any helpful infrastructure. Low growls kept him on edge as he sneaked.

  What he grew certain of was the lack of any people still around. The thought was scary by itself, but also brought to mind a question he felt could be important for his own survival: why were these creatures here if not for food?

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  With that question stuck in his mind, Erik noticed some odd quirks he hadn’t expected of wild beasts. The dogs didn’t seem to kill for food—not primarily, at least. The corpses he found had been murdered but seldom eaten. In contrast, buildings, power poles, and hydrants had been torn apart or ripped from their place. Erik had seen the skeletal remains of cars half-buried in rubble, their interiors stripped and gnawed apart with almost surgical precision.

  During his impromptu search, he also found scattered newspapers stuck between pieces of crumbled brick and concrete. A ‘monstrous dog sighting’ made the back pages of the February 22nd print with few more details than that, treating the sighting as just fluff. On February 23rd, the same paper screamed ‘Hellbeasts of Side Valley’ across its front page. Side Valley was the next town over, and Erik noted the slapdash printing of half-edited articles in the much thinner newspaper.

  It wasn’t just Erik’s town, then, but the next town over that seemed to be where it all started. So close by, and yet…Erik did some mental math. He died in late January and spent three months in Afterlife. These newspapers were from a month after his passing, meaning it should be around mid-April by now. Two months ago. Where was the Empire’s military? If they hadn’t been stopped yet, how far had these beasts reached?

  He flipped through the pages of even older newspapers he’d found, scanning for any mention of his close and loved ones. Afterlife was a gathering place of deceased Remnants-to-be, meaning his mother or father could’ve awoken there as well. They hadn’t. Erik’s magical bloodline stemmed from at least one of them, and he knew his mother couldn’t have survived the inferno. But what of his father?

  He hadn’t been in Afterlife, and…he wasn’t in Erik’s view when the fire crawled towards them. He might still live. Erik ignored the warm knot inside his stomach that wanted to ask a single question. He wouldn’t let himself even consider it. His father couldn’t have been behind the fire.

  By nightfall he was an old dirt bike richer, having liberated it from a gutted garage and was on the other side of town. It had been years since he had had a moped of his own, but he still figured he knew how to ride. He kicked it over, wincing at the two-stroke engine’s roar. It was better than the low growl of the ‘Hellbeasts’, though louder and more attention-grabbing, like a beacon for trouble. A chorus of howls answered the bike before he even hit the throttle, and Erik was glad he’d pushed himself and the bike atop the next hill over beforehand. The resurrected Remnant didn’t hesitate; he twisted the grip and sped away as fast as the bike would take him.

  United Britain was his end goal. Jessie lived in Leicester, though Erik had never been across the ocean between the Empire and the UB before. He needed to find a way across somehow. Were there ferries in Calais or Bruges in the Western Coalition? Should he travel to Amsterdam or Rotterdam in the States?

  He thought he could just catch a plane when they agreed to meet up again, but the world seemed to have gone to shit in the meantime. She was so close, and yet…he didn’t know how to reach her.

  With the small engine roaring beneath him, he ignored the closest cities in favour of smaller roads. It had boiled down to risk versus reward, as there might be a military presence in those cities, yet a larger number of vicious monsters out to get him and his loud bike. Erik needed distance from ground zero first. He’d be ecstatic if he found any sign of life, but after several hours on the road, he’d found no one.

  White fists clenched the steering bar of the bike, and his teeth gnawed at each other. What if he were alone? What if there were no one left?

  Rounding a bend in another small town at speed, he heard the heavy thud of paws behind him before he saw it: a Hellhound leaping from the wreckage of an overturned car. The bike bucked as its claws ripped into the rear fender. Erik kept the throttle pinned, but the beast stayed on his tail, gaining ground with every turn.

  His heart pounded in his throat when a second demonic beast was straight ahead, though this one was unbothered by the loud din of the engine pushing maximum revs and the man atop it. Not that it didn’t see him. Even as he took a panicked turn, its eyes were fixed on him—observing him.

  Erik already rode beyond his comfort zone through challenging terrain, yet somehow, even as his back wheel spun out, he kept himself on the bike—but losing momentum was enough for the chasing hound to be upon him.

  The beast leapt at its escaping prey. Luckily, it didn’t account for its food’s manoeuvrability. As its heavy body and panting breathing telegraphed its way of attack, Erik swerved, once more losing control of the bike on the soft ground in favour of keeping his back un-mauled.

  With his foot on the ground to keep him upright, Erik gained some traction and soon darted in the other direction, heading back towards the main road he’d been forced away from. Heavy metal creaking sounded over the pitched engine as the hunter behind him smashed into a long-abandoned car, the vehicle losing the struggle. Erik turned to look back, finding the beast still close on his trail.

  It would be impossible to shake off in the open like this, the monster’s manoeuvring and speed both higher than Erik and his borrowed bike. There was also the threat of the second beast he’d lost sight of for now.

  Though a reckless gamble, Erik saw no other choice than to cut straight into the woods off the main road. If possible, he clenched his fist even tighter against the rubber of the handles before he took the turn. His stomach almost emptied itself as he gained the slightest amount of air, then threatened again when he landed in surprising comfort on the softer forest ground.

  Branches snapped under the tires, sending splinters flying. The forest floor was slick with moss, swallowing his wheels in deep ruts that hugged them tight. He risked glancing back just once, and the sight made his blood run cold. The Hellhound was still gaining ground; its thick hide matted with dirt.

  The bike launched him forward, sending Erik flying before making an awkward landing in a patch of damp bushes and moss. He rolled over the handlebars, bruising his ribs on impact, though he still scrambled back to his feet just in time to see the beast barrelling towards him again. It didn’t bother slowing down as it neared, ploughing straight through the underbrush like an angry icebreaker.

  Erik righted the bike with one hand and jumped back on, twisting the throttle even before settling on the seat. The engine coughed and sputtered but remained alive. It then roared with renewed vigour just as the beast lunged. He veered around a thick tree trunk just in time to avoid being ripped apart, though another paw slammed down on his rear tire.

  Metal shrieked under the pressure, and he lost control of the bike once more. Still, he drove its momentum forward, gaining some distance once more.

  Then his breath caught in his chest as he saw the worst thing he could think of—a boy, maybe ten years old, stood frozen at the edge of a clearing ahead. He wore dirt-covered clothes but seemed otherwise healthy, if not a bit thin. Behind him were two pitched tents.

  Erik’s wishes and nightmares both came true all at once, and both were struggling for his attention. He couldn’t even process how happy he was to see signs of life again after sneaking through his own hometown in devastated ruins. The worst hadn’t happened yet; humanity still lived on.

  Then, a sickening feeling took hold of his gut—a firepit that smouldered inside him, growing hotter by the moment as his bones seemed to freeze. Erik was leading the monster straight towards them.

  Erik braked hard, skidding on the dirt-covered ground until the bike stopped. The Hellhound was already on top of him before he could turn and face it. The beast didn’t hesitate. It slammed into him, sending Erik flying with a resounding crack through more twigs and branches. Air evacuated his lungs in a ragged gasp as the world tilted sideways, blackness creeping at the edges of his vision.

  Somehow, with an ability he never thought he had, he rolled with enough momentum to keep from breaking any limbs. The bike landed near him with a dying squeal before it grew silent, its front wheel still spinning. In a panicked state, Erik stumbled back onto his feet and faced the beast once again.