The world wasn’t like this once. In fact, it wasn’t even that long ago. Eight years ago, to give an accurate figure.

  Seven billion human beings, all living in an increasingly more prosperous and peaceful world. It wasn’t perfect by any metric. There were still wars, disease, or poverty, but there were forces that were working to remove them from the equation.

  Then came the attacks all around the world, starting in New York. Attacks which spared the victims from death, and left them mauled all the same. No one knew what or who was behind those attacks, at least right up to the point that the victims were twisted into the very same beasts that attacked them in the first place. Ian could still visualise that very moment, sat in that café when the first of those wolven monsters burst out of the hospital and started tearing chunks out of anyone nearby. In the chaos that followed, the world started to learn about the cause of it all, the Retrovirus.

  As Ian advanced down each street, the impact of the Retrovirus on this city became ever prevalent. Gunfire echoed through the air, almost in tune to the odd explosion that shook the earth. Each shot, every bang became louder, sharper and clearer as he moved. Those same monsters weren’t sneaking around and doing surprise terror attacks anymore. This was a full on invasion. One that was getting further into the city.

  And then came the bodies. Dozens of them with deep gashes across their skin, whilst more were left riddled with bullet holes.

  But even with the tartan jacket he wore, Ian couldn’t fight off the shiver when he saw the bite marks, or if not that, then the whole chunks of flesh that had been torn clean from them.

  Even after eight years of seeing bodies left in such a state, he still found himself holding his breath when he noticed how anyone who was bitten had been shot or stabbed themselves.

  Did they turn on each other? Or was it mercy?

  That chill only worsened when he reached a crossroads further into the residential areas, with terraced houses running down all four streets. And at the centre of it all, sprawled out across the ground, ruined cars and a few walls, were over twenty dead humans, all shot, slashed and bitten.

  Many had whole chunks of flesh torn from them. And one young man was missing a whole leg. And then the stentch of rotting, diseased flesh hit Ian’s nostrils like a freight train.

  He willed down the rising gag – and bile – in his throat. Instead, he shouldered the SMG and swept it down the streets. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now, especially when he noted the streaks of blood that marked the tarmac, running down the road leading to the south.

  His chest tightened. Even the most insane of those monsters – the Ferals - were smart enough to drag their victims away. If they weren’t dead now… they were going to wish they wer-

  Something wrapped around his ankle.

  Ian sprung aside, swinging the Sten gun round and taking aim. But then he froze.

  A middle aged man lay flat on his back, hissing weak breaths as he stared up at him. “Help…” he whispered.

  Without a second thought, Ian was already down to one knee, keeping his finger over his gun’s trigger. He had to bite off a curse as he scanned his body, seeing the claw and blade marks cutting through the man’s chest. He had no medical supplies, but perhaps he coul-

  And then he saw it. The clothing around the man’s left shoulder had been torn away, revealing a that a whole chunk of flesh had munched through, with a slither of white bone just visible. But that was not what Ian noticed. Around the edge of the wound were visible teeth marks, as if left behind by a malformed dog.

  The man’s eyes weakly flicked in the direction of the wound, and when he looked back towards Ian, his gaze became firmer. “Help…” he reiterated with a slight nod.

  A cold numbness spread through Ian’s body as he tore his eyes away and ran a hand through his head. The man wasn’t asking for medical help. God damn it… not again.

  Ian knew what that wound – those bites – meant. And he knew there was no going back from it. Why did he have to be alive for me to find? Ian questioned, feeling his chest tighten. It had not been the first time – infected or not – but even though he knew deep down what he had to do, he wished he wouldn’t have to.

  No. I have to do this for his sake. I’d be asking the same thing in his position.

  With a long, heavy sigh, Ian reached behind him and pulled out his old knife from its sheath. As the infected man saw it, he merely nodded, looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

  Carefully lining up the blade, Ian straightened up, chinned up and with a sharp, efficient movement, slammed the knife straight into the side of the man’s skull.

  The body twitched briefly as a few neurons fired one last time, before it went still. Just as smoothly, Ian withdrew the blade and carefully wiped it on what bit of clothing on the corpse was unstained. An unnecessary precaution, at least, that’s what the scientists had said part way through the outbreak, but it was something he didn’t want to take any chances with.

  Slipping the knife away, Ian reached for the Sten gun, Either way, there was nothing that can be done… I just hope the others have managed to get ahead of the Ferals. He felt his skin crawl as the memory of the helicopter… and that of the warehouse began to surface. If those people didn’t get to them fir-

  Something creaked directly in front of him.

  “I’m unarmed.” Came a quiet voice.

  Ian didn’t take that chance. He hefted the SMG up and pointed it right at the source. The front door of one of the damaged, but otherwise identical houses had been pulled ajar. Leaning into view from around that door was an older man, his hair already greying and he had carefully positioned both of his hands so they were visible around the door itself, confirming to Ian that he was unarmed – or at least, didn’t have a weapon to hand.

  Ian didn’t manage to survive eight years through the outbreak by coming out with open arms at every turn. Survivors, bandits and crooks have made such a play before, smiling right up to the point they stabbed you. He had seen it happen. “Come out then!” he called out firmly, “I need to be sure!”

  With a simple nod, the man slowly pulled the door open and stepped out into the open. He wore a dirty woollen jumper and jeans, but as he said, there was no weapon on his person. He scanned the crossroad and the bodies that lay across it with a probing gaze. “Are they gone?”

  Taking an extra moment to look behind the man to be sure that no one was there, Ian lowered the SMG. “For now.” He replied, “You need to get moving to the train station, or one of the northern exits. The Ferals, they’ve got-“

  “I know about the wall.” The man warily admitted, “The sirens only stopped a few hours ago. I’ve been working towards getting out.”

  Getting out? Well that’s obvious! If anything it doesn’t explain why he hasn’t left already yet? Unless he went with these people…

  Ian motioned towards the bodies, “You know them?”

  This time, the man shook his head, “I don’t. We were going to join them as they came by, but the Ferals attacked and…”

  Out from the darkness of the house entrance, a small figure stepped into the shadow of the old man, who stepped aside to look at the new arrival. Ian nearly started to lift his weapon again, but froze as he saw exactly who that new arrival was. A young boy, no more than thirteen and wearing a tatty but similar outfit to the man, stared at the scene before him with a blank, wandering look.

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  An uncomfortable ache vibrated through Ian’s gut as he pulled his finger away from the trigger by pure instinct. Damn… that explains why he stayed.

  The man wrapped an arm around the young boy, who let out a faint sigh and relaxed in his arm. “I was out here to find my nephew… but there is still something I need to do.”

  Ian’s frown deepened, what the hell could be so important that he wanted to stay? With monsters coming down on top of his head? And if that helicopter came back round…

  He shook his head, “Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than your life.” He replied forcibly.

  The man merely pulled a thin smile, “Yes… well, there is now.” He said with a faint quiver as he patted the boy’s shoulder, “I need you to get my nephew out of the city.”

  The child’s head swivelled up to face the older man, “Uncle no!” he exclaimed, “I’ve just found you!”

  Crouching down to the boy’s level, the man’s smile steadied. “It’s alright Coop. I won’t be far behind you, but I need you to go with him for now. It’s not safe here.”

  As if to prove the point, a sharp, joyous howl pierced the air over Ian’s shoulder, coming from the south. We don’t have much time… Ian noted, and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two survivors. The boy – Coop’s – mouth hung open, his counter dead on his lips. Solemnly, the boy dipped his head forward. “’Kay…”

  The man turned to Ian once more, “Can you get him out? Please?”

  Ian felt his frown start to spread, but biting his lip, he reigned it in. He couldn’t shake his discomfort at how quickly the man was just throwing off the kid to some random stranger. But at the same time, the sight of the poor child ended up tugging at his chest. I’ve spent the last eight years helping people… and between the Horde and those… people…

  He felt his hand shake, I… I can’t allow them to get to him. Besides, the whole reason I came here was to help people. I can’t just give up on that part of the mission now.

  Even if that mission ended in disaster…

  And so, the young man nodded. “Of course… but you can’t stay here for long.”

  The older man didn’t respond at first, giving the boy a brief hug before gently pushing him towards Ian. “Don’t worry.” He stated, as Coop turned away from his uncle and unsteadily walked towards the survivor. “I won’t be.”

  In that moment, his eyes glazed over, and with the boy’s back turned, he reached for his trouser leg and pulled it up.

  Ian stiffened, struggling to keep his face as neutral and stony as possible. Wrapping around the man’s shin was the now familiar canine bite mark, bleeding only slightly. But Ian knew that was all that was needed. He didn’t need to look at the body of the mauled man he had just put out of his misery to know that.

  He’s not searching for anything. He’s already found what he was looking for. Ian noted with a sad pang, And he doesn’t want his kid to see what happens next.

  Very subtly, Ian dipped his head forward.

  The man returned it.

  As Coop approached, Ian let the SMG fall to his side, and used his free hand to gently grip onto the young boy’s shoulders. “Let’s get moving.” He said calmly, “Your uncle will catch up.”

  Wordlessly, the boy nodded as the survivor guided him towards the northbound street. The man watched them go as Ian started to widen his stride, wanting to make up for lost time. But as the uncle disappeared from view, Ian let his eyes flick over to the boy, who was staring right ahead.

  Ian resisted the urge to squeeze his shoulder, I wonder if he knows too… he sadly asked himself mentally.

  Another couple of streets later, shouts started to reach out towards him. He slowed, trying to focus on them. But it was all muffled, confused. As if it were some mob rampaging through the city.

  They had only travelled down a couple of longer streets when Ian heard the shouts. He slowed, trying to focus on them. But it was all muffled and confused… and desperate. Angry even. It sounded more like argument… or a mob?

  A group of survivors? Evacuees?

  Coop had actually walked past Ian, but as he turned to face him with a look of confusion, Ian sped back up again. They were humans for sure, and if there were humans, there may have been a quicker way out of the city.

  Or just as easily, more danger.

  “Stay behind me.” Ian urged the young boy as he hefted the gun back up. The Retrovirus had brought out the worse of humanity and that was a fact Ian knew that all too well. It didn’t really matter who they were, if they were desperate, they could do some very stupid and very dangerous things

  The ruined husk of a SUV sat at the end of the road. Locking his sights onto it, Ian sprinted towards it. His foot caught onto something and unable to stop himself, Ian slammed into the side with a pained grunt. His shoulder throbbed in protest, but gritting his teeth he peered around the edge of the car as Coop more gracefully slid in next to him. The street had opened up into a larger square within the city, where more buildings dominated Ian’s surroundings, most notably a small supermarket. Compared to the other structures he had come across; the market was in good condition. The windows were intact and the walls clean from any moss or decay.

  Aside from the car half buried in the entrance of course.

  But it was the car park that caught Ian’s attention. Two groups of humans stood at opposite ends of it, glaring at each other and a pair of pickup trucks between them, both intact and ready to move.

  In the carpark though, there was a cluster of around fourteen humans. Or rather, two of them standing on opposite sides of a battered, but intact pickup truck parked between them. And not only that, both groups were waving shotguns and handguns at each other, shouting and demanding access to the vehicle.

  “W-what’s going on?” questioned the young Coop as Ian narrowed his eyes at the deadlock, his muscles tightening with the air itself. There was no time to backtrack. They would have to slip past and hope against hope that the gunmen didn’t start shooting each other – and catch the pair of them in the crossfire.

  He was about to scan for an exit and confirm that plan with the boy when something caught his eye. Like a moth to a candle, his head drifted back around and settled onto the shape of a small black motorbike that was laid on the ground outside the carpark, just hidden behind a little ruined hatchback.

  A little grin began to work its way across Ian’s face. Bikes were tougher than they looked, if the engine was in working order…

  That’s our ticket out.

  He cast a glance back at the two groups, voices ever angrier. A few shotgunners stepped forward, waving the weapons threateningly at each other. Talks were breaking down.

  With that, he decided to take his chances. He turned back to the boy, “Coop was it?” Ian asked, taking a moment to realise he hadn’t actually confirmed the kid’s name. He ignored the slight blip of satisfaction as Coop nodded back, and continued, “Alright, these guys are going to probably shoot and ask questions later, but there is a motorbike on the road. I need you to stay down here whilst I check if it works. If I pick it up, I need you to run to me.”

  “And then we get on and… urm… scarper?” Coop replied, features twisting for a moment as he tried to think of the right word.

  Ian could feel his cheek twitch upwards, “Yeah, that’d work.” He replied in amusement. He narrowed his eyes, took a final glance out at the carpark, then rose. “Keep your eyes peeled, get ready to move. If things go hot… keep your head down.”

  Keeping his finger off the trigger, Ian stepped out from behind the husk and crept towards the toppled bike, an eye locked onto the two parties. He had a fire rate and range advantage over them with his submachine gun, but against that many guns, it wouldn’t matter much. In fact, he was that focused on keeping an eye on them, he nearly jumped out of his skin when his boot connected with frame of the bike. Wincing, Ian ducked behind the hatchback, grip tight on his weapon and prepared for the barrage of pellets and bullets.

  But no shots came.

  Ian panted out a faint breath, ignoring the now fading ache through his foot as he crept back towards the bike and reached out for th-

  “Oi! You! Behind the hatchback! What do you think you’re doing!?”

  Ian froze. Fuck!

  “Stand up and face us! Nice and slow!”

  Hissing, Ian obeyed and turned to find a gunman from each group pointing a shotgun at him. He carefully began to raise his hands, one false move… and he wouldn’t know what hit him. At least Coop will keep his head down. I hope.

  “Look.” Ian started, “I’ve not got a problem with you, I’m just trying to get away from here…”

  “He with you?!” someone barked, pointing accursedly at the other group.

  “Shut up! This is some trick!” came a reply.

  Ian bit off a curse, still bickering amongst themselves rather than figure out who he was! His fist began to clench. Damnit, can’t they see the city is under attack!?

  “We’re taking the truck, and the bike for that matter!” shouted the first speaker.

  “Not a chance!”

  He was about ready to toss a frustrated rebuke when something flickered into view behind the crowds. Leaning to one side, he eyed a humanoid figure standing at the corner of the market.

  ‘Humanoid’ was as far as the similarities went, and even that was sketchy. It was a skinny, crooked creature. Its legs were half bent, as if possessing a backwards, second knee. The arms were disproportionally sized. One massive, bulging with solid muscle. The other far more skeletal, hanging limply at its side and ending with long clawed fingers. Its skin was covered in a light layer of fur and infectious-looking boils pulsed beneath exposed pale skin with blood and pus. The head seemed stretched, warped into the shape of a canines with jagged teeth glinting. But the standout feature was the bloodshot eyes, twitching erratically even from this distance. There was one thing he could tell though. Those mad eyes hid a cunning intelligence.

  Those very eyes were now settling onto the humans.

  A wicked smile formed on its face.

  Ian didn’t hesitate, throwing the SMG up and started to bark the warning.

  “Ferals!”

  Confusion, then recognition flashed across crowd’s faces as they spun towards the monster. But not before the screams pierced the air.