They Come Out at Night

DISCLAIMER: This story was written and published in 2012 and has been kept up to show the writer’s growth. It is not intended as professional quality

Nobody knows how it happened….

The end of days occurred three hundred years ago to the date…I am one of the few men immune to The End disease…Me and my family are one of the three last survivors on the continent…I left to find food early this morning…

My name is Jay Morillo, and I am one of the last men on Earth.

Earlier in the day, I had grabbed my shotgun and went to catch something for my family to eat….I lost track of time in the hunting, and it’s beginning to get dark…They come out after dark.

Sweat stains adorn my shirt as I place one foot in front of the other. The noise of my shoes makes a shifting sound as I walk slowly. My grip on my shotgun tightens as I begin to pace forward.

I grow hyper aware of my surroundings with animal senses that have blessed me since the survival gene kicked in a few years back.My knuckles whiten as my grip grows ever tighter. My eyes wander back and forth. They dart up to the sky. There was once a moon there…today all that remains is a ring of rocks floating around the Earth…nobody knows why.

A familiar sound of teeth scraping flesh catches me off guard. They’re here.

My instincts kick in and I find cover. Darkness envelopes the land. A splatter of blood lands on the sidewalk. Not a man’s blood…They’re feasting on animals.

I rub hand back and forth along my shotgun as I back away slowly. I hear the grunts as They feast on a poor animal. the thing lets out a final groan before dying.

My eyes widen as I hear the crunch of a twig under my feet.

They look up. I weigh my options swiftly. They’ll be here soon. My pace quickens. I break into a run. I pant swiftly as I begin to run.

I hear it. They make the noise.

It’s a mixture of a dog bark, nails on a chalkboard and marble scraping steel. They will have their friends here soon.

The smell of rotten flesh fills my lungs as They arrive. A rabid animal of dead skin and rotting corpses make Their way towards me. I loud crack is heard as bullets rip through Their head. Another makes a dive for me grabbing my ankle. I hear a snap as I go sprawling to the ground. They have the virus. It’s taken full control now.

I let out a cry of agony as rotted teeth bite into my ankle. A desperate grab for my gun is made and another crack rings through the air. Three more cracks and three more corpses fall.

I tell myself to ignore the pain. Work through it. Pain is the enemy. Pain is the weakness.

My house falls into my view. Hopefully my family hasn’t locked up yet. Another one of Them runs up at me. A blur of motion and the butt of my gun rams straight into Their stomach. As it keels over a crack is heard and They fall to the ground with a chunk of lead in their head.

One more bullet left.

They appear in front of me. the last one of Them. It’s moves are a blur of motion like water. I duck under the punch and meet a knee the the face. I fall backwards hitting my head in the steps to my house. Blood loss…hard to focus.

They beat me like a cat playing with it’s prey. Rotted nails claw at my face. With a swift move of my arms my shotgun slams into Their face. They reel backwards in pain letting out another cry. More of them will be here son. I’ll have to end this quick. Blood loss adulterates my vision. Only one shot…make it count.

A crack. A body falls to the ground.

In a few second I make it to the house. I’ve bolted the door in another few seconds.

My eyes widen in shock…I see Them in my house…only one of Them. Blood runs from it’s mouth like a waterfall. Right now I don’t care what it’s feasted on. My family…an animal….I don’t care.

It ends tonight. All of it. Determination flashes into my eyes like fire. I grab a glock and make a desperate fire….I miss.

It runs at me, we meet each other with savage ferocity…I may be immune to Their virus…

But inside….we are the same.

We both do what we must to survive.

Author: Connor M. Perry

From an early age, I learned how to divide by four. See, two minutes after I was born, I discovered three other newborns hot on my heels. I was a quadruplet. And I needed to learn to how to share. Everything. At an early age, I took to writing so that I could have something unsharable. I began writing small stories online for my own enjoyment, and gradually moved to more ambitious ideas. I've been running my blog The Mythlings for two years now, publishing a new installment every Friday. I've enjoyed creating different worlds, characters and relationships in my stories. I currently live in Worcester, MA with my girlfriend, two cats, and a collection of swords.

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