text: y hand slides under my pack in my light slumber, my fingers lightly coming into contact with my pistol. The feeling of cold steel roused me from my sleep. As I drifted awake the feeling of the Firearm under my makeshift pillow was almost comforting , given the environment I was now in. By habit my hand grips the gun as if I were preparing to fire, even if I were still mostly sleeping. My eyelids seem to weigh hundreds of pounds as I tried to open them. I was never a morning person even before all the world came to an abrupt end. I slowly unzipped the almost worn out sleeping bag I was in and sat up. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and checked my surroundings, attempting to remember where I'd decided to camp out during the night. I saw the room in partial light that is filtering through the cracks in the boards nailed to the window frame, my eyes snap to the doorway by instinct. Closed and barricaded, like I had left it. "Thank God!" I exclaimed to the hallowed room. My eyes continued to scan finding it completely void of all furniture except for the destitute chest of drawers against the door. Slowly I made my way to my feet, my joints cracking and popping like a patient at an old folks home. "Well that's not getting easier." I again said to the desolate room. Just as the words flew from my mouth I heard a thud from above. The sound reverberating off the walls. "Shit." I thought in a panic to myself "I forgot to clear the upstairs last night." The guttural groans then began to filter through the floor above my head. “This is gonna hurt.” My spine tingled at the vibrations that the baritone sounds produced. I slowly packed my things into my rucksack trying to be dead silent so as to not make my guest aware of my presence. Once finished I slung the pack over my shoulder. I then picked up my 1911 from its resting spot on the ground. I pressed the mag release and dropped the magazine into my hand. "Eight rounds, full." I whispered to myself as the bullets glinted in the sunlight. The magazine seemed to vibrate in my hand with the energy contained in each round. The round sticking out had a tiny cross engraved onto the surface of the metallic copper that was the tip. I then slid the magazine into my pistol and with a heavy pull on the slide I racked a single bullet in the chamber with a satisfying clack, as the gun's mechanisms did their job. I then tapped my chest in search of my Catholic cross. I wrapped my hands around it and began a small prayer. "Dear Lord let me be your sword as you are my shield. Forgive me for the sins I must commit for the safety of your kingdom. Please guide my bullets and let my shots reign true in battle. Amen." I said at a barely audible level just before kissing the cross. The words that came out felt so...rehearsed because I had probably said that same prayer a hundred times. Another loud thud resonated from the ceiling, making me jump and pushing the adrenaline into my bloodstream. I quickly yet quietly holstered the Firearm then moved the chest of drawers from the doorway. The groan of the large piece of furniture was only arrested by the fact I pressed my whole body against it. I then opened the solid wooden door and made my way into what I would have guessed was supposed to be some sort of "Man Cave" before the collapse. Complete with all the regional sports team decals littering the walls. I remember this team being the rivals of my dads sports team before everything went to ***Hell***. With my heart pounding in my ears as I tried to make my footfalls as silent as possible against the basement’s concrete floor, I passed the door I had entered last night - the glass from the broken French door now glinting in the sun of a new day. I made my way to the stairs and began to head up at an almost impossibly slow pace, building tension in every step. I had become accustomed to the way you had to move around in this new world I found myself in. Silence was key because every corner could have some new danger , some new threat, and the less noise you made the less you had to deal with. I reached the landing at the top of the stairs, my brain firing on all cylinders as the moan rang out through the ground floor once again. I slowly creeped towards the source of the noise , keeping my exit strategy in the back of my mind. My hand glided down to my 1911 as if by instinct. "Too loud." I whispered to myself as I reached for my opposite hip. The clasp on my knife popped off effortlessly as I drew the blade from its sheath. The steel glinted in the morning sun, which was sneaking through the sheer curtains by the main entryway. The blade itself was well used but the carving on the hilt was what made it truly useful. A cross not too unlike the one hanging from my neck was engraved on the surface of the dark wood. Step by step I made my way deeper into the house passing by this perfectly preserved specimen of what used to be called a home. It wasn't too long ago I used to live in something akin to this house. I came upon the door I suspected was the one imprisoning the abomination making the dreadful growl. Thump thump thump, the sound of my heart filled my ears as I reached for the door. I turned the knob slowly and with a small almost inaudible click the door started to open. I then pushed my head towards the small crack I had made in some attempt to see my very much unwanted guest. My eyes fell upon a gnarled corpse on the bed. The body was as if it had been mummified. The ribcage of the corpse was splayed open wide with what was left of the internals exposed to the air. Each organ that was on display seemed to want to crumble to dust at the slightest touch. The long dark hair of the corpse was draped over the side of the bed, matted and clumped from what I would assume would have been blood from a long time ago. I was glued to the gruesome sight until the growl resonated from the opposite side of the door. The waves of sound shook me to the core, the fight was now and my body knew it. With a swift motion I stepped back and kicked the door with all my might. With a meaty THUD the door collided with my unknowing foe. The door then swung wide putting my new adversary Directly in my line of sight. The grotesque figure of what I assume was a man fell before me , his pale skin drawn across his elongated bones as if a small fissure would cause the whole of his skin to tear clean off. The Eye sockets of the abomination were empty and seemed to have descended into the skull. I quickly raised my knife above my head and ran at the creature. With a high pitched screech the monster took to his feet and began his own charge. I swung the knife towards it and made contact with the right arm of the beast. The steel hissed against the blood and flesh it was now buried in. My heart was pounding into my ears as the creature took a swipe. I ducked below the swing but lost my grip on the handle of my knife. Scrambling I rolled to the side out the door attempting to gain an upper hand. Panicking I Bolted from the room and made my way back to the stairs, the Thing not far behind me. The sickening sound of the creature’s nails against the floor as it scrambled towards me only made me panic more. “Fuck” was the only word flooding my mind, repeating over and over. I came to the stairs and was quickly knocked over by my adversary. Before I had time to react I was on my back, a sharp pain fired out through my left shoulder. The fucker had jumped on me and bit me, it’s jagged teeth were still sinking into me. I took the opportunity that I was given and grabbed the hilt of my blade. Rearing back I worked my legs under the thing and pushed against it’s center mass. Luckily this caught it off guard just enough that it loosened its hold and with a gruesome pull the mouth of the monstrosity was free from my shoulder as well as my knife from it’s bicep as it began a forceful descent down the flight of stairs. I quickly clambered to my feet chasing it down the stairs and with a leap of faith onto it’s waist I thrust my knife into its chest. Immediately the struggle stopped as the ***Demon*** crumbled into dust , the smell of sulfur and brimstone filling the tiny room. I slumped against the wall and slowly slid down until I was seated. With a deep exhale I reached for the tin of hand rolled cigarettes I kept in my jacket. I popped the tin to find I only had three left. “Figures.” I said as I placed the cigarette into my mouth and lit it.