Current Day
They sat in a decrepit concrete building. The windows had been blown out during the last explosion. Large chunks of concrete strewn across the room, pieces of broken glass littering the ground. The war-torn landscape was coupled with an eerie, windy day. The air was heavy, feeling like it could rain at any moment. The grey clouds loomed threateningly above, withholding the cold Fall rain. The air static with electricity.
It was in this day full of anticipation that they hid. They knew something was coming. Quietly crouched in front of a window, he kept watch while she boiled water. A few moments earlier, he had hung up a dirty white sheet to filter out the chilling wind. It rippled and snapped with the gusts of frigid air. It was a futile attempt and they both knew it. They had dug a shallow hole in the rubble where they had placed small sticks and dried grass to make their fire. She had taken a while to light it while he anxiously peered around the curtain analyzing the road below. It was quiet, the broken and abandoned cars littering the road in silence. Although he understood her reasoning to go to the second floor, he couldn't help but be acutely aware of the lack of possible escape routes.
"Hurry up, we need to keep moving," he said while peering out for what felt like the hundredth time. Still nothing, the lifeless cars looking back at him, the leaves skittering across the road.
The woman glared at him and checked the water.
"It's not ready yet."
He glanced furtively away. He knew it wasn't. His nerves were getting the best of him. He hated being in the city. Although it had more supplies and shelter, he always felt like a sitting duck and could never fully relax. There was just too much risk, an easy chance of making a damning noise or seeing something they could never unsee – he had already seen too much.
He looked at her as she sat crouched beside the fire warming her hands. He wanted to yell at her and tell her to just hurry up. They were going to come. It would all be over soon; he just knew it in his gut. But he always felt this way. There was never a moment when he was able to lower his guard and relax in this horrible new reality in which they lived. He knew she felt the same and thus remained in silence, the air pregnant with things unsaid. Instead, he continued his watch. As he peered out the window onto the street below, a drop fell on his nose. He looked at the asphalt that was once a road. In the times of civilization, people would drive on these surfaces to get somewhere with convenience and ease. Now, they were cracked, and pothole ridden. To be avoided at all costs as they left you exposed and vulnerable. Not to mention the chance of twisting your ankle as you ran away from Them.
The rain pattered on the road, the fat drops creating spots all over until they disappeared.
"It's raining." he said.
"I know." She replied, her back still facing him.
"Do you think it rains where they are?"
"They are dead," She poked harder at the fire, tiny sparks flying in the air. "So, no I don't think it rains." She turned as she said this, glaring at him and signalling the end of the conversation.
His lips formed a tight line as he held in what he wanted to say. She never wanted to speak about anything other than what was strictly necessary. They'd never even shared their names. She handed him a cup of water and turned back to the fire. Holding the hot container, he looked at her, debating whether it was worth continuing the conversation. Although he didn't agree, they'd had this argument countless times before. It's easier for her to believe they didn't make it. How else could you explain a year left to rot in this hellhole while others live safe?
"They're coming back." He said firmly. Whether he was trying to convince her or himself, he didn't know.
"They're dead. I don't want to keep having this conversation, it does you no good to imagine help when none will come." She said angrily, looking at him with eyes that had seen too much.
Although he didn't know her before, he imagined she was once beautiful. She looked like someone who used to laugh. Now, her face was stone cold and weary, exhausted from the constant threat they lived under. Dirt streaks on her face and muddy brown hair matted back into a grimy braid.
At least he thought her hair was brown, it could just be stained from the dirt. There was no way to know.
It was in times of silence like these that he wondered if she had a family before. She probably did, she was young. Just like me,he thought. Everyone had a family once. Now, it was not something to be spoken of. There was only survival and the following day, never the last. It didn't do anyone any good to ponder on the past. The atrocities he alone had seen were enough to make anyone lose their mind.
With a sigh, he got up and came closer to the fire, sitting down with his knees pulled up to his chest.
They sat in silence, drinking their water, hunched over as they tried to warm up by the small flickering glow. Fingers poking through worn mittens, they both enjoyed the small bit of warmth their drinks gave them.
The sheet blew around, hitting him in the back as he sat beside it. The rain pattered behind them as the gusts blew on. They sat like this in companiable silence for a couple minutes, the steam rising in swirls from their tin mugs.
Suddenly, the atmosphere picked up the familiar ominous feeling they'd experienced too many times. They both looked up at each other, hands still clasping their cups. They jumped up lightning fast, eyes wide with panic. With practiced efficiency they silently snuffed out the fire and put their cups down. Hurriedly they laid down in front of the window. The rapid movements performed as silently as possible. As they lay in front of the opening, she put her hands in front of her mouth, in a way that seemed like she was trying to stop herself from screaming. An odd habit he had noticed her doing but that he did not judge her for. If putting her hand over her mouth helped her then she must do it.
They all had their habits to survive.
Their hearts were racing. The constant badum, badum, badum beating in their ears like drumbeat. Cold sweat ran down their backs, beading on their faces. Their fear was palpable, yet they made no discernable noise as they lay against the windowsill.
From the shadowy corner of the block, it emerged, a grotesque nightmare in motion. Its deliberate, eerie advance was accompanied by a chilling symphony of sound: step, step, cliicck... step, step, cliicck... Each of its eight legs lifting with effort, as it travelled behind the stalled cards. It's slimy off-grey body heaving unnaturally as it moved. In its loathsome wake, it left wet footprints composed of its viscous slime. A sickening testament to its vile presence. Its feet made of cruel, serrated claws, thirsting to inflict savagery. It didn't seem to notice the wind gusting and the rain pattering upon it. It pressed on with an unyielding purpose, seemingly impervious to the elements. Its nightmarish mouth hung agape full of razor-sharp teeth, saliva dripping down and hitting the ground. Eerily, the Roamer's spider-like head swung around to scan its surroundings. Its dead arachnid eyes focusing intermittently on its surroundings. It was searching for something. It's head slowly tilting from side to side as it scanned the street.
This was a smaller one , only about six feet tall from the ground to its back. Regardless, its diminutive size did nothing to reduce its malevolent nature. A small Roamer was just as deadly; capable of running down its victims and spearing them with its front legs in a matter of seconds. They were swift, merciless executors.
The pair laid there, terrified as it slowly made its rounds down the street partially hidden behind the cars.
Roamers were creatures of nightmare. Their existence defied reason as they seemed devoid of higher intelligence or cognitive function. They were cruel drones, driven by an insatiable purpose: to hunt and to kill human prey. Their senses seemed heightened: tuned to the exact frequency needed to hunt any prey. Once they detected your presence, your fate was sealed, and you were as good as dead. Those who were foolish enough to try running away were rapidly ensnared as the Roamer pinpointed their location with chilling precision. Catching their prey with alien swiftness, they would spear through a human like a knife in hot butter. The agony of such a death was unspeakable and many were not lucky enough to immediately succumb. Their screams would reverberate in torment as it resumed its deadly march. With each passing moment, their cries would gradually fade as their despair finally ended in death's cold embrace.
Once a Roamer killed a human, they did not feast upon it. Their perverse lack of consumption led to them wearing the corpses like a trophy or they would leave their kill's lifeless remains exposed for all to witness. They were like automatons with the kill switch permanently turned "on".
With these thoughts in mind, the pair watched as the Roamer creeped through the street. Though partially hidden, they noticed it was walking oddly. It favoured its right side over its left. They both knew what this meant.
He silently turned towards her. Her eyes were wide and fearful, her hands trembling as they covered her mouth. He wanted to tell her to turn around and put her back to the devastating scene they knew they were about to see. They made eye contact in acknowledgement that this was impossible. With the monster's proximity, any movement would risk detection.
This isn't the first time she's witnessed this, he reminded himself.
Slowly turning his head back, he steeled himself as he watched the wretched scene unfold before his eyes.
The abomination turned around the corner of a car. Its legs moving in synchronized pairs, the sharp front razor legs hitting the ground with clicking noises echoing like a horrible song.
They saw his body arriving in an open spot on the street. He was an elderly man, his frail body thin and worn. He looked like a farmer, clad in a plaid shirt and blue jeans. A curious matter sent shivers down their spines: he wore no shoes. His bare feet were bright white contrasting against the dreary grey surroundings. His white hair dragged on the ground, intermingling dirt and blood. He was pierced through his chest, his face peering up at the sky. His eyes closed as if he were in a deep slumber. He almost seemed peaceful as he heaved up and down with the Aliens malevolent gait. Sleeping, as his mouth hung slack and open in fearful shock.
Step, step, cliicck... step, step, cliicck...
Step, step, cliicck... step, step, cliicck...
All the way he went, to wherever the Roamers bring them.
***
They finally decided to move when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. Bright and shining, the rays hit their arms warming them up as they lay frozen in fear.
Who knew how long they stayed like immovable statues after experiencing such a horrendous scene. It would be days before they let down their guard. His gut told him that their plan was a horrible and that they should return to the woods where they were relatively safe. He knew this was a horrible idea from the start and now he regretted not putting up more of a fight.
Too late now, you're too deep in the city, he reminded himself with dread.
He sighed and looked at her. She looked wretched. Her face pale and her hair wet with sweat. She met his eyes and they both sighed in unison. They rose with the sun to their backs and began packing the little possessions they had. Looking at his bag he remembered a time when his possessions were more than just enough to fill a flimsy backpack. At least it's a sunny day to survive,he thought mirthlessly.
Still crouching, he looked out the window to the cloudless blue sky. It was during sunny days like this that he used to take his family out for picnics. They'd lay the old tatty blanket he'd had since he was a child on the ground, the cicadas singing around them in the trees. His daughter would gallivant around the fields of grass, laughing joyfully with her face tilted up to the sky. Her golden blond hair like a halo around her face, he'd wipe the strawberry jam off her cheeks as she giggled. Back then, he'd smile and laugh a lot, now he wasn't sure if he even remembered how. Sunshine was what they used to dream of. Sun so they could go out and play. Not so they could survive another day.
"Come play with me daddy!" she'd say as she'd pull his arm. If he tried hard enough, he could remember how her tiny hand felt in his grasp. Small, perfect fingers he'd help create and a tiny jovial voice that –
"Are you listening to me?"
Pulled out of his thoughts he looked up. The woman was standing above him with her hands on her waist. Suddenly, as he zipped his bag closed under her watchful gaze, the sun didn't seem so bright. His surroundings were bleak and colourless once again.
"What?" He asked straightening out of his crouch.
"I said, we need to get going before we lose the trail."
"I thought you lost it in the rain."
He hoped she did so they could leave this hellhole.
"No, it didn't rain hard enough but I think the sun is only temporary so let's go!" she flicked her hair impatiently over her shoulder adjusting her bag.
Sighing, he shrugged indifferently under her pressure. He would not be rushed for this fool's errand. When she found the pair of tracks on the outskirts of the city, he had wanted to run away while she wanted to follow. "What if they're the ones were searching for?" she had said. He knew better than to believe in such a fantasy, especially considered what they had witnessed not even two days ago but the woman managed to convince him.
Although his gut was telling him this was a bad idea, he tried his best to ignore it. It seemed too good to be true. Feeling like he should remain on the safe side he methodically pulled out his weapons to count them again. All three of his knives were there and so was his machete. He patted his satchel to feel the six bullets he was carefully keeping. He had no gun and no idea where to find one but better than letting them go to someone who did.
She huffed impatiently at his inspection. He didn't let it affect him as he systematically tested the blades dullness against the pad of his thumb. Good, but not great. It would have to do. He sighed as he sheathed everything away and got up. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and took one last look at their surroundings. Yet another place I never want to see again, he thought bitterly. They looked at each other and nodded.
"Let's go."