The world was coming apart at the seams, and underneath was only more loss, destruction, and death. 

The body was on him, reaching, grabbing, gnashing. Isaac held a heavy chain between both hands, the middle of which was coiled around the neck of one of his congregants. Sheryl had shown up every Sunday, attended vigils, and served in the soup kitchen; that was before last night. Last night the city turned upside down, and now Sheryl's lolling eyes rolled into the back of her skull as she bit the air between their faces.

Tightening his grip, Isaac readied himself and let out a yell as he drew his hands apart with as much force as he could muster. Sheryl's tongue protruded from the pressure before a deep crack emanated from her spinal column, and as the chain straightened, the flesh between its links tore her head from her body.

Keller let out a sharp cry as the final pull had wrenched his left shoulder from its socket, hanging lifelessly at his side. Sheryl's body had slumped away, and though the detached head ought to be in its final rest, gurgling noises continued to articulate from between her teeth.

Leaning against the wall he rode it to the ground where Isaac sat amongst the putrid mess of human flesh and tried to catch his breath. The world was coming apart, and in his struggle to survive Father Isaac Keller was just as much a perpetrator of dismantling what little humanity remained. He looked at the bruises forming on his hands from the heavy, blooded chain across his lap. A month ago these hands fed, prayed, and healed. Now?

A sound caught his attention and Isaac rose from the ground, grunting when his dislocated left arm protested. It came from the the adjoining alleyway; another apartment perhaps? From the ground floor he peered out the window into the alley.