Fuad and Terry kept on a straight course for several hours, keeping to the side of the road as was their norm. As was also the norm, the two were prone to bouts of silence. It was odd that as long as the two had been with one another and the things that they’d been through, the two rarely spoke about much of substance, at least in terms of their past. Terry once spoke of him being a fireman, but it wasn’t that Fuad asked, or that Terry was speaking of it; it was because he asked why the hell Terry knew all he did about flammables and explosives. Both realized early on that the past meant nothing at this point, and the important thing was what the future held, and what you could do to delay what most people knew was the inevitable. They’d met cops and mothers who killed without thought or remorse, while having met a recently paroled gang banger who laid down his life to save members of their party. As Pantera sang, “yesterday don’t mean shit.”

It was still light out and they had several hours before it started to get dark. While neither Terry nor Fuad were what one would deem an outdoor survivalist, they were good enough survivalists to like outside. Both were more comfortable in buildings of some sort, and even resorted to sleeping in vehicles from time to time. Contrary to what others in the past thought of them based on their almost carefree attitudes coupled with the fact that the two seemed complete opposites, the two were ruthlessly efficient and mindful of situations and the dangers they presented. They knew it was better to go for several days with little food than to go into high risk situations because rations were low. They knew when to avoid people, to scout, to take their time and many other small things that people overlooked. 

On top of that, they had each other. They were opposites and that aspect saved the other from letting their true nature drive them to death for many, many days now. 

When Fuad looked up, he stated flatly and casually, “getting dark soon. We should find a place to shack up.” 

“Yeah, it’s not too cold. Worst case, we stay out tonight, but keep an eye out for something with some form of roof.”

Fuad nodded and continued on, looking about casually. Eventually, they found what they were looking for in a small main street for the small down of whatever the name was of it that they were in. It had the typical small town buildings: barber shop, a grocery store, sporting goods and guns, coffee shops and the like. No McDonalds or Starbucks or anything of the sort. While that was not ideal because these places were smaller, it WAS ideal because this place would have been passed over by many people who made the mistake of heading towards larger cities. 

The two looked at one another, nodded and settled down, simply watching and trying to get a feel for how safe the street was or was not. There were few signs that this place had been ransacked or looted because, while some cars on the street were abandoned and had doors left open, there were no windows broken or corpses in the street. 

That could also mean that this place was a territory claimed by others, and those others may be violent to any newcomers. The two skirted around the city’s edges and all was quiet when they poked into buildings. When they made it to the grocery store, they were happy to find that, while much of the food was gone, it wasn’t looted. That told them both that the store was open and selling things at the beginning of the outbreak, but closed when things got bad. Looking in, there were plenty of canned food, dried goods and other non-perishables on the shelves and on the floors.

Terry looked over at Fuad and smiled, a genuine smile—not one of sarcasm or out of sheer cynicism. It was something neither had seen in a long while. “Jackpot,” Fuad said as he continued around the building. The store seemed secure, and looking in, Terry noted that there was dust everywhere and no footprints. Lots of food but no one taking it meant the town was either empty or full of idiots. Terry assumed it was the first of the two, so he began to speak a little louder, just above a whisper. 

“Ok, let’s get organized first and not let our stomachs do the deciding here. See that big, stone building? It looks like a storage facility, it’s got a second floor and few windows, so if that place is clear, I say we set up shop in there, then come back tomorrow since we have enough food for a week or so.”

Fuad nodded and said, “makes sense, but I’m shocked your fat ass can ignore what your stomach tells you.”

Terry snorted derisively and made his way out across the street and the two approached the large building that Terry mentioned moments ago. All was quiet on the street and in the buildings, there were no sounds, no movements. Nothing. They moved to a door and Fuad pulled out one of his most important, life saving doom’s day aids: a can of WD40. He sprayed the hinges over and let it sit for a minute or so, and then nodded to Terry who pulled the door open. It made almost no sound, which was a godsend at times. They entered, closed the door behind them and looked around slowly. It took several long moments for their eyes to adjust to the difference in light. When their eyes adjusted and they took a few steps in, both stopped and looked at each other. 

Something was wrong.

There was a humid, odd feel and smell to the place and they kept their eyes peeled as they continued on. After walking to the center, they moved to look around and Fuad was hit on the arm by Terry, who pointed to a corner by a work bench…there was a pile of skulls sitting, staring at them with lifeless, empty eyes. It normally wouldn’t shock them, but they were cleaned, polished to a shiny white and placed as if it were some short of shrine. The two looked at each other in silence and it was then that they both heard an odd sound. 

It was not far away, and after staring at each other a moment longer, they turned towards it and it became obvious that it was something dripping. It was a steady, slow, but large drip and Fuad tapped his chest and pointed, indicating he would go check it out. He moved around a shelf and a few tables and got to a point near the sound. Looking down, he took a knee and looked closer.

Terry was watching him, looking around when the hair on the back of his neck started to stand up. He looked around and took his shotgun out, immediately thinking they should get the hell out of here. He was about to speak up when in front of him, the air seemed to shimmer or seemed displaced. Terry squinted and looked closer when that mass of something shot forward and before he could say anything, Terry felt 2 blades rip into his chest with enough power to lift him up into the air. He was shocked and surprised, and so was Fuad who’d just turned around to see Terry come off the ground and blood fly into the air.

He couldn’t form words, he was confused and scared. He could see the air in front of Terry was shiny and distorted, but he didn’t know what to do. “Terry….”

Terry could taste blood and knew he was going to die, so he took the shotgun and pulled the trigger. He got slight satisfaction as the lead pellets hit—something—and a bright green liquid shot out a split second later. There was a deep, angry growl and the air moved again, knocking the shotgun from his hand. 

Fuad watched, frozen as Terry did the last thing he could which was pull his pipe out and smash down into what he hoped was something vital, which ended up knocking into something electrical because there was a shower of sparks from the impact, but also in the air around him.

A moment later, in front of Terry stood…something. It was over 8 feet tall and had a smooth steel looking helmet with two eyes. It was well muscled, so much so that it had two blades attached to one arm that extended well over 4 feet—both of which currently had Terry impaled. From the back of the helmet were what could only be described as braids or some sort, and the hands and feet had claws on them. Had Terry not felt the excruciating pain clear as day, he’d have thought this was a dream. 

He brought the pipe around, attempting to hit the thing in its face, but its other hand grabbed it midswing and ripped it from Terry’s weakening grasp. Terry felt rage and anger and started cussing at the thing, a stream of obscenities until he finally convulsed and died halfway through telling the thing about how he had sex with its mother the night prior.

It flung the corpse aside and focused on Fuad. Neither moved for a solid minute before the thing reached up slowly to its mask and flipped several switches that hissed loudly. After the last one, it pulled off the mask and Fuad swallowed in fear. The creature seemed to be making a clicking sound, almost as if it was talking to him. It was something out of a nightmare, scary beyond thought. Its face was flat, puggish looking, with spiderlike mandibles. Its eyes were even scarier still, being almost human, but cruel and bloodthirsty. 

At this point, Fuad knew what was coming, knew he’d die this day, and it came as no surprise. Months ago, the two were talking and both laughed at the fact that they knew they’d die at the same time. They’d lived together, survived together this long and it was only fitting that they’d meet their end together. Fuad looked at the thing and smirked, spitting at it and saying “you’re one ugly mother fucker,” before lifting his own shotgun up and firing twice at the thing. The first shot hit something that sent sparks flying again while the second bit into the things thigh, splattering more of its bright, almost neon green blood out to the side. He was racking another round home when a series of three red lights, almost like laser sights, shot up from the things shoulder, focused on him and in a split second, fired a bright blueish white beam of energy at him. 

Fuad couldn’t help but think that the lasers and the beam were bright, almost beautiful, like a light show. They were the last thing he’d ever see as it took him full in the face.