social anxiety disorder at a party (thru a guy's eyes)

I am at a party. I’ve had a fair amount to drink and everything is bathed in a warm red-orange glow.

Everyone’s talking to everyone else. I’m struggling to maintain a conversation with a girl who is in a relationship. It’s comforting that she’s in a relationship; I don’t have to watch what I say, and I can be honest. I tell her about college, and listen when she talks about her own experiences. We’ve known each other since middle school, but I know we’ve grown distant, and I know it’s never going to be the way it was before. It’s for the better anyway. I still like her, I guess. I awkwardly end the conversation and she seems relieved. I look for a moment at her beautiful eyes and wish for all the world I could know what it feels like.

I take a walk around the room, stopping by the concentrations of conversation.

This one guy, he plays guitar really well, he knows all sorts of songs and he’s in this cool band, and, like, he thinks it might be a big deal. He’s attracted a crowd of groupies, most of which are immensely attractive girls. I know I’m jealous that I hadn’t put more time into learning guitar. I think about his future. If he gets lucky, he’ll be rich and will never be at a loss for companionship. But it’s always more likely that they burn out somewhere along the way.

I walk on, green envy clouding my thoughts. I stop by a second group, and listen in for a second.

With a grin and narrowed eyes, this well dressed kid speculates on how wonderful it’d be to pop a girl’s cherry. He makes it clear that he really likes having sex. Most of the guys talking to him share similar sentiments. I’m at a loss. More jealous rage in the back of my mind, so I move on.

This other fellow has put in the hours at the gym (his arms ripple with muscle and his face is lean), and has put six or seven shots of whiskey down his throat in the past thirty minutes. He’s loud, liable to brag, but overall friendly. And the girls around him don’t care that he’s obnoxious. They’re attracted to it, even if they don’t know it. It’s the confidence.

Every guy who’s popular with the ladies is confident. I decide that I’ll be more confident. I’ll start socializing.

But I think back to the girl I’d been talking to earlier, and see her standing with her significant other. I get a nod from the boyfriend, an acknowledgement that I’m harmless, and the party continues. I look at everyone and think that I might need to vomit.

I step outside, leaning over the railing, scolding myself for drinking too much. Never again, I think. But nothing arises from my throat, and my stomach calms. I don’t feel how cold the air is. I see hills beyond, and a road winding between the trees.

I wonder what it would feel like to die.

[edit: even though this is in first person, it doesn't mean it's a true story]

Leopold awoke, his arms wrapped around Susan’s waist. His throat burned and his legs were sore. I should be retired. He looked up and saw sunlight creeping in through the windows; the dust in the air manufactured brilliant rays of light. The beauty of the sunlight was dampened, however, when it revealed the peeling wallpaper (with the skeletal wooden walls beneath) and the caked dirt on the windowsill. The rest of the room was empty save he and his wife, their backpacks, and the moldy carpet.

He crawled from his sleeping bag and groggily pulled himself to a sitting position. Deciding that he had gone too long without a smoke, crawled to his backpack; he zipped it open to retrieve a hatchet and a cigar. He ran his fingers against his chin, and feeling the stubble, decided he would shave before doing anything else. He fetched the razor from his backpack’s rear pocket.

He stepped out of the room and walked down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. He turned the faucet handle, expecting it to silently reply that the plumbing was out. Instead, foggy water poured out. He splashed some on his face and then brought the razor up. A cry from outside of the house caught his attention before he touched his cheek. He stuffed his razor into his jacket pocket along with his cigar and turned off the sink.

He ran from the bathroom, taking a brief look inside the room he and Susan had slept in to see that she was still there, to the front door. He opened it slowly, hatchet in hand and muscles tense. He was briefly overwhelmed by the sunlight before his eyes adjusted as he eased open the door.

It was a chilly autumn morning; the frost covered forest was calm and silent. Most of the trees had already dropped their leaves, but a few branches remained with orange and yellow vegetation. A morning fog obscured his vision; he judged that he only had a half mile. He squinted, looking for a source of the scream, when he caught a shaking tree branch. Something leapt out of the fog and climbed into a thick patch of leaves. He couldn’t make out its form very well. He reasoned that it might have been a squirrel or a raccoon.

But he knew better. He’d seen it before from afar, and knew it had been following them. Not one of the quiet ones that grumbled and hummed, but one of the loud ones. One of the ones that didn’t die without putting up a vicious fight.

He took steps out of the doorway to go towards the forest. If nothing else, he could get a better look. And if it was the thing he feared it was, he could distract it from the house. Probably could kill it, too. The dried blood on his hatchet’s head testified to his abilities.

He considered Susan then. She had a rifle, one of the accurate ones that the army used. He turned to walk back inside, and that was when he heard the window break.

He ran in through the living area and down the hallway. As he turned the corner into the room he saw a single black feather floating through the air. It puzzled him, but it also seemed somehow familiar. Where had he heard about the black feathers before? He knelt down and grabbed it. It was oily but light. And he ran his finger along the edge and felt that it was sharp enough that it could probably cut skin if used right. He looked at the broken window and saw blood. He looked out the window and couldn’t see anything. And then he heard the scream again, the same one that had roused him from the bathroom.

He dropped the feather and went back to the front door. As he neared the aperture he heard it breathing, deep ragged inhalations that betrayed what it was. He stood in the open doorway and looked at it, and it looked back at him. It had been a woman once, he could tell it in the face. Her hair had mostly fallen out, although bandages concealed it. Maybe that had been how she was infected in the first place, a head wound. Her outfit was military camouflage, which explained to him why he’d had such a hard time seeing her in the trees. The monster’s eyes were locked on him, tinted red, pupils narrow. Maybe it saw the distracted look on his face.

The feather had meant that it wasn’t this post-soldier that had taken his wife; it had been something else, something worse. And as if reading his thoughts, the monster looked up, screamed once more, and darted off. This last scream was a sound he hadn’t heard one of the monsters make before; it sounded distinctly like fear.

Leopold turned, all of a sudden knowing what was happening. He understood it then. He backed away to get a better look at his roof and saw it there. His wife’s body was skewered on its right claw, and its eye-less head tracked him. Its mouth was open, dripping blood, although it was blood too dark to have been Susan’s. Its teeth swayed like fingers, and he realized that it didn’t breathe. Judging from its scale to his wife’s body, it was somewhat taller than the average man; perhaps eight feet. Leopold’s breath caught in his throat.

The Fleshreaper.

It fluttered twice and then rose into the air, his wife’s body still pierced on its scythe-like claw. It flew off into the trees and he saw that it was like some twisted skeletal version of an angel. Perhaps the reason it needs flesh is because it has lost so much of its own, he thought.

As Leopold was left in the doorstep of the empty house, he felt emotions welling up. But before his face could betray his emotions, he pulled out his cigar, lit the end with a match, and listened to the cold wind whistling through the woods as he took his first puff.

Urban Survival: Chapter 2 part 2

He stuffed his face, he had not eaten good food, or even real food in a few days. The most he had, had to eat was some MREs and although they were filling, he was not a huge fan.

When Max had finished he walked over to the window and looked out. The window overlooked the city street, which, many years ago, used to be crowded with pedestrians and cars but now there was nothing more than the street itself and some rubble.

He decided he was at least on the eighth story of the building. Then he also noticed that there was movement on the ground below. There were still hundreds of groups of Cree attempting to find a way into the building. Max wondered if that was the ‘it’ Aeila had been talking about… he certainly hoped it was not.

Max could see rain drops falling daintily past his prison window, “at least the rain is beginning to let up,” he thought to himself.

He turned around and looked around the room again, while resting against the wall. Max then closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He wondered how his squad was and hoped they had made it back to the safe house all right. They probably thought he was dead.

Max slid down the wall into a sitting position, resting his arms on his bent knees. He was so tired. He had not had a full nights rest in almost week.

The wonderful feeling of sleep was creeping up on Max but he didn’t fight it, instead he let it engulf him.

However, someone shaking him and calling his name suddenly woke him. Max tried to scramble to his feet quickly out of instinct but someone held him down.

“Max! Max, everything’s fine it’s just me,” a female voice said laughing.

Max looked up at her face and saw that it was Aeila.

He looked around, “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know? I was only gone about, maybe twenty minutes.”

Max looked at her confused. He could have sworn it was longer than that but then again he had been asleep.

The Kahnora, Nova stood happily behind Aeila watching them intently. There was a protective grey bone crest over her head that covered all but Nova’s eyes. He also noticed that what he originally thought was smooth skin on Nova was really just short fine hairs. Nova’s pelt was not a solid black either. However, her fur had thin grey tiger stripes running down her sides.

“Come on, get up. I found Marcus, so now you’ve got to go see Jaq. I’m sure he’s already grown impatient.”

“Who is Marcus?” Max asked still sitting.

Aeila laughed, “Get up and I’ll show you. He’s right outside.”

Max got up slowly. Aeila watched him carefully as if she were studying him, Max pretended not to notice and walked over to the desk where he had left his canteen. Picking it up, he clipped it to his belt and turned around. Aeila was still watching him but when she saw that Max had noticed, she looked away quickly and blushed.

“Sorry. Are you ready to go?”

Max smiled, “Do I have a choice?”

“Unfortunately, no. Come on.”

Max followed her through the open door and stepped out into a hallway, Nova tailing closely behind. The hall was lit by floodlights at random intervals. He could hear the faint humming of the generators that were powering them. The two guards that had been watching Max’s prison were nowhere in sight but Max did not think anything of it.

Standing in the hall was an Ayra who looked a bit older than Max. The Ayra was also shorter than the others, just like Aeila.

“Max, this is Marcus” Aeila said leading them down the hallway, “I believe you met him earlier in the parking garage.”

Max nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement following her, “oh, you mean one of the ones who left you to die?”

“Yeah, I told her I was sorry. But Fal would have told the guards to raise the bridge if I didn’t tell them to wait for her. Aeila always finds a way out of trouble.”

Max immediately knew which Ayra it was when he heard his Australian-like accent, “Yeah and if I wasn’t such a nice guy she would be Cree chow.”

Marcus looked at his feet as Aeila lead them through a door to some stairs, “I know what I did was wrong. I just… panicked.”

“It’s okay Marcus, I understand,” Aeila reassured him.

The three of them descended the stairs in silence as Nova ran on ahead.

“So… This ‘thing’ that I need to fix… it doesn’t have anything to do with the hoard of Cree surrounding the building would it?” Max asked worriedly.

Aeila didn’t answer for a couple seconds and began to concern Max, but then she finally said hesitantly, “Sort of…”

Max put on a fake smile, “Oh great! Just what I ordered bloodthirsty carnivores…”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and exited through a door marked with a big number seven.

When Max saw what was on the other side of the door his jaw dropped.

“Max. Welcome to our safe house.” Aeila told Max when she saw his face.

They were in a huge room that would have originally been full of cubicles but now it had a huge hole in the center of the floor with smoke rising up through it into a vent hole in the ceiling. Small huts had been erected along the edges of the room. Max walked over to the edge of the hole and looked down.

The hole went through three floors to where Max could see four floors below him. On the floor farthest down, there was a large bonfire which was what was creating the smoke.

On each floor, there were randomly shaped huts and a bunch of Ayra walking around and talking with one another. Across the room on the floor below him, Max could see a group of Ayra kids kicking around an old soda can.

He could see Nova was already down a couple of stories running around with two other Kahnora. One had a reddish-brown pelt and the other a bluish-green one. Max had only every seen one Kahnora before, he had seen it on one of his scavenge missions but then he had no clue what kind of animal it was.

“Come on,” Aeila said grabbing Max’s arm and leading him around to one side of the hole.

A rectangular section of the floor had been cut out and set up like a ramp down to the next floor. The two Ayra led Max through the mini town and down multiple ramps until they had reached the floor with the bonfire. All the Ayra men and women smiled and waved when they saw Max, Aeila and Marcus walk by.

At first, Max thought that they were waving to Aeila and Marcus but when he looked a bit closer, he saw that they were staring directly at him. At least that is what it felt like. Then Max also noticed that the teenaged Ayra girls were staring at him and giggling as he passed.

Max was very confused. He had no idea that Ayra could be so… friendly. But then again the only Ayra he had ever dealt with before were the POWs captured during the War with the Ayra. And those Ayra were extremely unhappy campers.

Up ahead, Max could see a set of double doors that they were now heading towards and he wondered what Jaq was going to tell him. He could only think about the hoard of angry and probably hungry Cree just outside of the building. If that was what he was supposed to fix… he was a dead man.

Max was interrupted in mid thought when a cocky looking Ayra and two larger cohorts suddenly blocked their path.

“Hey, Aeila. What do you got there? Is that you’re new boyfriend? You know humans are never up to any good.” The Ayra said, his voice trying to sound smooth and sly.

Aeila shifted her weight to her right leg and crossed her arms, “neither are you Syler. Not get out of our way!”

Max noticed that all the happy, cheerfulness in her voice present when she had talked to Max was now completely absent in the words she spoke to Syler.

Nova seemed to have noticed what was going on and stepped in between Aeila and Syler. She growled harshly and bared her teeth. The most eerie thing about it was the fact that Nova’s smooth, short hair was now bristling and seeming to ripple across her body.

“Whoa ho-ho! Come on babe…”

Syler chuckled, “Cute pet.”

He took a step towards Nova and kicked her. Nova yelped and ran to hide behind Aeila, still growling. Syler then tried to lean in and kiss Aeila on the cheek but before he got anywhere Aeila punched him in the gut with all her might. Syler winced as he sucked in sharply for air.

“You’ve always be a strong girl Aeila, but you’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

As Syler stepped towards Aeila, Marcus placed his hand on Syler’s shoulder, “Leave her alone Syler.”

Syler spun around and threw Marcus to the ground.

“Syler calm down.” One of Syler’s large cronies tried to tell him.

Looking at the large Ayra he shouted, “Shut… Up!”

Turning back to Marcus, Syler yelled, “You don’t tell me what to do Human! I don’t listen to people like you!”

Max looked awkwardly at Marcus. Was Marcus truly Human? If he were, that would explain his Australian accent. Moreover, if he were Human Max could not resist. This was one of the moments when Max felt he needed to help someone who was in trouble.

As Syler turned back to deal with Aeila he stopped suddenly, almost surprised, when he saw Max standing between him and his “prey”.

“Then maybe you’ll listen me,” Max said squaring his shoulders.

He had no intention of actually fighting but just in case a fight broke out he didn’t want to be caught off guard.

Syler laughed, “That’s cute Human. Now get out of my way.”

The Ayra stepped towards Max to shove him out of the way. But as Syler’s hands touched Max, Max threw his hands up and broke Syler’s contact with him.

Stumbling to catch himself from falling forward, Syler’s face changed from amusement to anger.

Once he regained his balance he again commanded, “Get out of my way!”

Slyer emphasized ‘way’ by swinging his fist at Max, but Max easily deflected the blow. Slyer swung a few more fists angrily, which Max effortlessly blocked. Growing increasingly more aggravated with each blocked punch, Syler threw a low blow.

Max caught Syler’s arm with both hands and twisted so that Syler was forced to turn his back to Max. Max then kicked him in the back sending Syler sprawling. When Syler got up the sight was pathetic. He looked frustrated and embarrassed as if his pride had just been pried from his clutches.

As Syler charged Max desperately, Aeila turned to Syler’s large crony who had tried to calm him down and asked, “Brale, would you please stop Syler before he hurts himself? We need to get going. Orders from Jaq.”

The muscular Ayra nodded, “Sure thing Aeila. He’s getting out of hand anyways.”

Brale walked up behind Syler. Wrapping his arms around Syler’s waist Brale picked him up. He lifted Syler off the ground and away from Max with ease.

“What are you doing you idiot!?” Syler yelled at Brale trying to hit his own man.

Marcus walked over to Aeila, “are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that,” Aeila laughed, then turned to Max, “Thank you. Again.”

Nova let a complimentary whistle as well.

Max nodded, “It was nothing.”

Smiling Aeila led Max and Marcus back down their original path. Nova ran ahead a she had before, trotting through the doorway excitedly.

As they walked through the double doors, Max could hear Syler still yelling at Brale.

“Well that was fun,” Max said to himself sarcastically.

Urban Survival: Chapter 2 part 1

Max opened his eyes slowly. Everything seemed extremely bright, so he had to squint but doing so made his raging headache even worse. For a second he couldn’t remember what had happened, but when he tried to hold his head he realized that he was tied up. Everything that had happened sunk back in and Max hit his head on the ground, angry at himself, ignoring the extra pain he had just caused.

“God Max, what did you do?” he asked himself out loud.

Once he had gotten used to the light, Max looked around. He was in a small room full of old janitorial supplies. There was a door in front of him and a small window in the corner of the room that let in the dull light that Max had thought was so bright at first. From his position on the ground Max could see the faint glare of the sun through the cloud cover and guessed he had only been out for maybe an hour.

He heard the muffled talking of some people outside guessing that they were probably guards stationed outside of his ‘prison’. Max was beginning to regret following that female Ayra, of whom he could not quite remember the name of. Everything still seemed a little fuzzy.

Max’s attention was drawn to the door as it suddenly opened and a very attractive young woman in her early twenties entered the room carrying some kind of tray in her hands. Her slender body was clothed in Human garb; a black tank top and blue skinny jeans. Her brown bangs were brushed over one of her ears.

She was also shorter than the other Ayra, like the one he had met earlier in the parking garage and then he wondered if all female Ayra were shorter than the males. She also looked more Human with her height. Max had seen Ayra without their armor before but he did not know that Ayra could be so… beautiful.

Suddenly a slick black creature bolted through the door moving quickly but stealthily heading towards Max. Max, startled, tried backing away from the oncoming creature but with no luck and felt warm slobber on his face as the creature licked him. Its wide, almost flat head kind of, in a way, reminded Max of a newt or salamander.

He felt defenseless against this creature… well he was, he had no way of protecting his face with his hands tied behind his back.

The female Ayra called the creature away from Max and it walked over to the Ayra excitedly panting and wagging its tail while staring at Max. The creature was the size of a large dog and acted a lot like one as well.

“What is that thing?!” Max asked startled.

She smiled, “This is my Kahnora. Her name’s Nova. She likes you.”

Two guards walked in behind her and she turned to the guards, “Untie him.”

“But Jaq said…”

“I don’t care what Jaq said,” the young Ayra interrupted them.

“Sorry Aeila, we were told to tie him up. Orders are orders.”

Nova began to growl and bared her teeth at the two guards.

“Wait, Aeila? You’re the one who got me into this mess,” Max muttered.

“Well don’t go pointing fingers, but yeah, I helped you stay alive,” Aeila answered, then turned back to the guards, “What? You afraid this one Tiny Human is going to be able to get through two, Big and Strong Ayra like yourself? Come on, for me?”

Max did not like how she exaggerated the word tiny… or big and strong for that matter. He looked at the two guards, they weren’t that big, Max could easily take them bare handed even if they were taller than him. But he kept quiet.

The two guards looked a little uncomfortable with the way she said it as well, but one replied, “Well okay, I guess if you put it that way…”

“Thank you,” Aeila said as the two guards passed her and walked up to Max.

Nova stopped growling and began panting and wagging her tail happily again as each of the guards pulled out a blade and cut the ropes around Max’s wrists and ankles. Max sat up, massaging his wrists and staring at Aeila.

She nodded towards the doors, “you can leave us.”

The two guards looked confused, “But, Aeila…”

“That’ll be all,” she interrupted, again motioning to the door.

The guards reluctantly left the room. Max watched them as they did so, then he turned his attention to Aeila as the door closed behind her.

There was an awkward silence. Then Aeila spoke, “So you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Max,” he stated looking her in the eyes.

Aeila smiled, “Well, Max, I brought you some food.”

Max waited to see if she had anything else to say. She didn’t.

“Is that all?” he asked and Aeila just stared at him blankly, “I mean, you guys hold me at gun point, knock me out, tie me up and throw me in a janitor’s closet. And now you’re bringing me food?”

“Yeah… yeah that about sums it up.” She answered him still with a smile on her face.

“Oh, okay cool.” He said, still confused.

Max stood up and stretched but suddenly felt light headed and had to catch himself on a small desk that was nearby.

“Are you alright?” Aeila asked taking a couple steps towards Max and setting the tray on a self next to her.

Max waved her off, “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you bring me some water? I could really use something to drink right now.”

“Oh, I had your canteen filled,” she said grabbing his canteen off the tray she had set down.

Max took it gladly and gulped down half of the canteen’s contents, but he was still careful not to let any of the water drip out of his mouth. He had made it a habit, years ago to not waste any food or water, and get as much as you could, while you could.

When Max finished drinking he stared at the desk he was leaning on, taking deep breaths and thinking. He looked down at himself and just then realized that he had been stripped of all his gear, down to his undershirt and pants. Aeila stood there in silence watching Max as he frantically search for the yarn doll and necklace.

Then he remembered that the necklace was around his neck and he reached for it to feel that it was truly still there, and that is all that really mattered to him... for now anyways.

Max then turned to Aeila with a puzzled look on his face, “Why being so kind to me, a Human?”

“You saved my life.”

When she said this Nova let out a short whistle and began wagging her tail even more violently.

“That can’t be it, can it? Every other Ayra I’ve met thinks I was the one to endanger your home. How many of you are there?”

“A few hundred,” she said interrupting.

“What!”

“Yeah, there are a few hundred of us.”

“Huh, well that’s just great! So hundreds of Ayra, want me dead?” Max asked, freaking out.

“Oh no, no, no over half of them don’t even know you’re here. The ones that know, like Jaq, they just want you to fix it.”

Max stared at her awkwardly, “Fix it?... Fix what? What did I possible do now?”

“Well nothing, but they’re just blaming you for it.” Aeila stated slowly.

“It? Are you ever going to tell me what ‘it’ is?”

Aeila smiled, “Sorry no, um, Jaq wants to tell you himself.”

“Oh? What, is he my buddy now?” Max asked sarcastically.

Aeila laughed, but then her smile faded, “Well you’re not going to like what he has to say.”

Max looked seriously at Aeila setting his canteen on the desk and then pulling himself up onto it in a sitting position, “Well that doesn’t sound too good… Is it life threatening?”

Before Aeila said anything she cocked her head and stared at Max intently. This made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

Max didn’t like the silence and felt relieved when Aeila finally spoke, “You’re bleeding.”

“What? Don’t change the subject!”

“No, your cheek, it’s still bleeding.”

Max reached up and felt the cheek that Jaq had smacked with his pistol. He winced when he touched the large gash on his face. He pulled his fingers away and looked at them; there was wet blood on his fingers.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, let me take a look at it,” said Aeila walking up with an outstretched hand.

She tilted his chin up and leaned in closer for a better look. She grabbed Max’s open canteen and poured some water on the wound making Max jerk away slightly. Aeila opened a small pouch on her belt reaching in and pulling out a piece of cloth. She dabbed the gash gingerly but it still made Max cringe.

His face cringed when she wiped the gash one last time.

She smiled, “sorry.”

Aeila pulled some kind of bandage out of her pouch and placed it over the wound. She pressed gently around the edges of the adhesive part of the bandage to make sure it stayed.

Closing the pouch, Aeila stared once again at Max.

“What?” Max asked uncomfortably.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Aeila looking at him it was just that it was a little awkward.

“Sorry, nothing. It’s just you… you remind me of someone I used to know,” Aeila answered looking away.

“Stop apologizing. It’s okay, really. It’s just… Well, a little awkward.”

“No, I… I understand, sorry.”

Max rolled his eyes and smiled when she said sorry, then all went quiet. Aeila walked over to where she had set down the tray and picked it up.

Walking back over to Max she set the tray down on the desk, “I convinced Jaq to allow you to live with us. But first you have to do something for us, the safe house. I can’t give you any details. Despite what you saw when I came in I really do listen to most orders. Eat up, and I’ll be back to get you. I need to find someone first.”

Max didn’t answer and watched as she walked towards the door. Without another word she knocked on the door and the guards opened it. Nova dashed through the opening excitedly but before Aeila walked out she turned and took one last look at Max then she was gone as the door shut behind her.

Max shook his head and began eating the food Aeila had brought him.

Urban Survival: Chapter 1 part 2

The two brutish looking Ayra walked off towards the ramp to the next level of the parking garage. Their weapons at the ready.

“Fal, why are you sending those two Jokers to take care of it?” The Ayra in the skull armor asked. “They’re stupid and clumsy. They’ll probably attract more of those things.”

Max could not help but notice how the Ayra’s voice sounded like he had an Australian accent, which he found… strange. Nevertheless, listening to what the skull armored Ayra had said, Max looked at the two Ayra walking up the ramp. One thing that he noticed first was their rifles. Neither of them was silenced and this worried Max, a lot.

“Fal, or whatever your name is, he’s right,” Max said nodding towards the Ayra who now disappeared through the opening in the ceiling. “They have unsuppressed firearms. If they shoot at the Cree, others are bound to hear it. They could attract a Murder. I’m sure their own pack is already on its way, don’t make things worse.”

Fal jabbed the barrel of his gun harder into Max’s chin, “I’m going to murder you if you don’t shut up! ...What is a murder?”

Max flinched as the cold metal barrel dug into his skin.

“Bad,” The skull armored Ayra answered him, “It’s a horde of the Cree.”

Aeila appeared as if she was going to say something but she was interrupted by two loud screams and bursts of gunfire. The four of them looked around.

The two brutish Ayra fell through a hole in the ceiling where the concrete had given way to the weather. They landed in a heap but quickly scrambled to their feet aiming their rifles up and through the hole. Max could hear their loud and heavy breathing.

“What happened?” Fal asked, yelling at the two oafs.

“It just… snuck up on us,” the large one panted.

“How did it possibly sneak up on you in the light?”

They didn’t answer but instead let off a few more rounds through the hole. The shots rang and echoed off the buildings in the city.

Fal only now realized how loud they actually were and yelled, “Stop shooting!”

The two Ayra ceased fire and backed away from the hole. The smaller of the two backed up into the open wall that faced the street. All was quiet, too quiet.

Unexpectedly hands grabbed the Ayra from behind clawing at his armor. The Ayra screamed as a pale head tried to gnaw through his helmet. As the angry and hungry Cree clawed at the Ayra’s chest, it hit something that started beeping.

“Get off of me!” the helpless Ayra cried.

The Ayra finally managed to pull away from the Cree’s clutches. The Cree however kept hold of the beeping object, which had detached from the Ayra’s armor, and began to gnaw on that instead.

“Get down!” Fal yelled pulling Max to the ground with him, purely as instinct not because he wanted to save Max’s life.

The Ayra all dove for cover as the beeping continued. Max threw his hands over his head and tensed up. The beeping stopped abruptly and all seemed deathly quiet.

The whole of the parking garage shook as the device in the Cree’s mouth exploded, sending flames and shrapnel everywhere. What was left of the Cree toppled to the streets below. Pieces of concrete fell scattering on the ground around Max.

He looked at where the explosion had taken place and assessed the damage. Dust hung heavy in the air and caused them all to cough and wheeze. There was now no longer a wall or floor within a six foot radius of where the detonation had taken place.

“Holy crap!” Max gasped

The female Ayra, Aeila, was the first to get up. She ran over to check on the Ayra who had been attacked by the Cree, but he waved her off pushing himself up off the floor. As everyone slowly got to their feet, a horrible shriek rang out from the streets.

Fal ran over to the wall where Max had originally climbed over and peered out onto the street, “Oh no…”

Cree were running at the parking garage from every corner of the street, there were hundreds of them.

“Told you so,” the skull armored Ayra mocked.

Fal turned and glared at the Ayra, “Shut up! Let’s get out of here.”

He then began to sprint toward the ramp and towards the upper levels of the garage. The others followed.

Max was about to follow until he watched the first Cree jump out of the hole the two Ayra had fallen through and attack Aeila.

The momentum of the Cree threw them both over the edge and through the hole in the floor the explosion had made. Aeila barely managed to grab onto the edge of the hole but was able to keep her grip.

Aeila cried out for help but the other Ayra kept running, ignoring her. The Cree that had attacked her clung onto her legs clawing at her armor, trying to find a way to tear at her flesh. Max saw that the other Ayra were just going to leave her there to die.

Although he had, had his differences with the Ayra, he would sooner save one than let a Cretin kill one. And maybe it was a flaw, but whenever someone was in danger, he felt an urge to save them.

Max ran over to the edge of the hole and stuck out his left hand to offer his help. Aeila gladly took it for she was struggling to keep her grasp on the cold concrete, and the thrashing Cree on her legs was making things twice as difficult.

Although her visor was dark and Max could not see her face, he could sense how terrified she was. Pulling her up until her other elbow was over the ledge, Max drew his pistol. He pointed it at Aeila and she said nothing.

“Duck!”

Aeila quickly ducked her head and Max pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark and the lead projectile ripped through the forehead of the Cree assailant. The Cree’s expression went from anger and desperation to a calm nothingness as its limbs went limp and the Cree crashed to floor below.

Max helped Aeila the rest of the way up onto the solid ground.

“You… Saved me?” Aeila asked, breathing heavily.

“Now is not the time, we’ve got to go!”

Aeila looked out at the street. The Cree were now upon the garage and beginning to climb the walls of the building. “Right sorry, come on!”

She dragged Max towards the ramp to the next level and he followed quickly. They ran through each level until they reached the roof. As they ran through the opening to the roof Max could hear the rain patter against his helmet again. He had gotten used to the dry shelter of the parking garage, so the rain almost stung as it hit the bare skin on his face.

As they set foot on the roof, the first thing he noticed was that Fal and the other Ayra were not there. Aeila lead Max to one of the sides of the building. It was facing a twenty-story building, and he noticed that there was a large makeshift bridge that Max had not seen from the street. The bridge extended from the twenty-story building to the parking garages roof. Aeila stepped onto it but stopped when she noticed Max had.

“Come on!”

“What is this place?” Max asked, hesitant to go into the building if it were full of Ayra.

Aeila turned back and grabbed Max’s arm, pulling him onto the bridge, “It’s a safe house. Now come on!”

Max was still hesitant on whether or not he should follow the Ayra, but a loud screech from the Cree pursuing them made him think again. He decided it was better to live than to be ripped to pieces by the angry Cree, so he followed Aeila.

The bridge extended from a room in the building where the windows had been cleared, leading to a single door guarded by two Ayra soldiers. Once Aeila and Max had reach the end of the bridge, and set foot into the room there was a loud creaking noise and the bridge began to rise. It worked like a medieval drawbridge; two large cables reached down from higher up in the building and connected to either side of the bridge. These cables pulled the bridge up and away from the parking garage.

The two Ayra guards raised their weapons at Max when they saw his uniform but Aeila told them to lower them, so they did.

Max could see from around the bridge the Cree come sprint into view as it came to a stop flat against the building. Hundreds of them came pouring out onto the roof of the parking garage and even as they reached the edge of the building, the Cree behind them continued forward shoving the Cree in the front ranks over the edge and falling to their doom.

Behind him, Max heard the door open and he turned around. An arrogant looking Ayra walked through staring at Max. In his hand he carried a rustic looking pistol. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and his short brown hair looked ragged. He looked like a human in his mid forties without the helmet on.

More Ayra soldiers walked past and two of the soldiers grabbed Max’s arms restraining him.

“Jaq, he’s alright, he saved my life.” Aeila pleaded with the arrogant Ayra.

But Jaq just shook his head, “Aeila, it doesn’t matter. He’s human, we can’t trust him! At least, not now, not after he almost let those things into our safe haven.”

“Sir, that wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t come here to fight! I came here to survive!” Max told the so-called Jaq.

Jaq struck Max across the face with his sidearm. Starbursts erupted in Max’s skull and his vision began to blur. He would have fallen over if it were not for the two Ayra holding him up from behind.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Jaq said.

Grabbing Max by his cheeks and forcing Max to look him in the eyes he continued, “Lucky for you I can’t afford to let you go. You know where we live. However, since I’m such a nice guy your wish to survive will be granted… for now.”

Violently letting Max’s cheeks go, he stepped back. Aeila continued to plea for Max but Jaq ignored her. He motioned to the soldiers holding Max, but before Max could look behind him, more starbursts erupted in his skull and his vision went black.

Urban Survival: Chapter 1 part 1

Max stood there in the rain looking up at the third story of a parking garage. There was a dull red orange glow of a fire, only just visible in the dark gloomy light of the sun.

His tattered, urban ACU’s were hardly protection against the heavy onslaught of rain that pelted the destroyed war torn streets. He had traveled light for his mission four days ago so that he would be able to get out faster if things went wrong. More or less things had.

Knowing that he had to get to shelter soon, Max decided he would check out the camp, hoping that it was some friendly human survivors. Unfortunately, a closed, metal security gate blocked off the main entrance. He surveyed the area and saw a low wall that sloped up almost to the second story.

Before he thought about it, he began sprinting towards the garage. The assault rifle slung over his back bounced against the Kevlar plating strapped around his torso. His breath was hot in the scarf wrapped around his neck and chin.

He leaped up on to the wall and ran along it, his Kevlar helmet keeping the rain out of his eyes. Diving forward and grabbing the ledge of the wall to the second story. Max pulled himself up and over it. He landed in the empty parking lot and pulled out his silenced pistol. Looking around he saw nothing; a few abandoned cars and some rubble.

He cursed under his breath when he saw that the floor and the ramp to the next level had collapsed into the first floor making it an impossible entry way. Double-checking the gray-lit floor to make sure there was no hostile or dangerous being, he turned around and looked out onto the side of the building. There was a pipe that ran up the wall to the top of the building.

Max closed his eyes and sighed, “Great.”

Although it was a possible entrance Max wanted to see if there was a more practical way to get to the next floor. With his pistol at the ready he examined his surroundings more carefully. He hadn’t been in a parking garage in over twelve years but he remembered that there were always stairs that led to each floor in buildings like this.

Peering around a parking column where the ramp used to be, Max rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

There were two cars blocking the door to the stairs. One had T-boned the other in what Max guessed had been to kill a Cree, because as Max got closer he saw the skeleton of some being wedged between the fused metal of the two cars.

He couldn’t believe it had already been eight years since the first outbreaks of the Cree in 2012. The parasite first infected insects and small bugs taking over their bodies and spreading to humans and Ayra through their bites. Most of the Ayra already had immunity to the parasite but there were those who didn’t.

The parasite spread like a disease taking over one human after the other. Most of everyone believed that it was the end of the world. People like Max knew better, although there were times where he thought otherwise.

The remaining scientists even still are baffled as to what causes some humans to turn you into a Cretin and prevents others from not. A little over three fourths of the Earth’s human population into aggravated psychopaths.

Max put his memories to the side for now and started walking the perimeter of the garage looking on the outside for a service ladder. He finally found one but he let out another sigh of dismay when he saw its condition.

The ladder had fallen loose of its bolts and was hanging uselessly out and against the building across the ally. Checking the ground in the ally to be sure nothing had seen him looking out over the ledge Max holstered his pistol.

He walked back over to the ledge with the pipe. He checked the street for any Cree but didn’t see any and thought that they must be in their hive to escape the rain.

Max then climbed up onto the ledge of the wall and jumped over to the pipe. He climbed hand over hand until he was straight across from the third story parking lot. Luckily it wasn’t too much farther up because the bolts securing the pipe to the wall as well as the pipe itself were rusty and coming loose.

Max let go with his right hand, shaking it in order to get blood flow into his cold numbing fingers. Then doing the same with his other hand, he decided he was ready.

He leapt over to the ledge and pulled himself up just enough so that he could see over it and into the garage. Max ducked down quickly, however, when he saw that there was a small group of four to five Ayra huddled around a small fire eating something that looked like canned food. Although he had only seen the figures for a second that was all he needed to see the blue and gold armor of the Ayra.

Max looked at the ground below and cursed when he saw a Cree walking across the road past him. It must have turned a corner while Max was climbing the pipe. The Cretin’s growls and heavy breathing could be heard through the noise of the rain. He hoped that it hadn’t seen him but knowing his luck so far he knew that was probably unlikely. But now he knew he could not go down there either though. Even alerting the Cree could cause a murder. So He hugged the cold, slick wall until the Cree had turned the corner and disappeared into the other ally.

There was some sixth sense that the parasite gave the Cree. They wander around by themselves or with a small group during the day but as soon as a few of them sense that there is a possibility for food the others in their pack can feel it and the whole pack comes running to the source.

If there is any extremely loud noise near a pack, they see it as a threat to their hive and they all go to attack. In a place like a city with multiple Cretin packs near each other, they all come running and you have a murder on your hands.

Max took a deep breath and decided to deal with the Ayra. Although they were enemies he needed food and water and this could be his last and only chance for that. His wet hands grabbed the rifle in anticipation of conflict.

He placed the rifle on top of the ledge. Twisting his feet for better grip, he hoisted himself up and over. One of the Ayra unfortunately saw him out of the corner of their eye before Max hadn’t even made it half way over and yelled, “Human!”

Throwing down its food and shutting the visor on its helmet, it raised its rifle and aimed it at Max as the other Ayra scrambled to their feet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa I’m not here to fight,” Max lied in a calm tone, stepping over the wall and holding both arms and his rifle near his head as a sign of surrender. “I just need some shelter. I… I was also hoping that you could spare some food.”

He watched the Ayra’s trigger finger so that at the slightest sign of movement he would have a chance to get out of the path of the bullet. Three of the five Ayra took a few steps closer to Max weapons poised. The other two had lowered their weapons as if they decided Max was not a threat. They were both closer to Max’s height of five feet ten inches as opposed to the average height of Ayra at six feet five inches. One of them was still intimidating however. It had used some kind of white paint to draw the rough shape of a skull on its helmet and visor. This made it look like some kind of beast.

“You alone?” a large and bulky Ayra asked.

His voice was deep and strong. Max looked at all the Ayra then back at the one who addressed him, “…Yeah.”

“Let’s kill him.”

“Wait… I don’t believe him,” the first Ayra said putting a hand out, stopping the large Ayra from stepping towards Max.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s lying, that’s what I mean.” The Ayra said with hatred in his voice, “I bet he has a team out there on standby, sent here to take us out.”

This Ayra stepped over to Max himself relieving him of his rifle and throwing it to the ground out of Max’s reach.

Max almost winced, thinking, “so much for the fighting idea.”

Then the Ayra looked past him and at the surrounding buildings, “I bet he also has snipers ready to take us out!”

The Ayra took a few steps back away from the open wall, his voice got louder and faster with each word. Max couldn’t help but laugh at the Ayra’s antics but when he did the Ayra glared at him, or what Max figured was a glare. He couldn’t see the Ayra’s face.

“Fal, you’re paranoid. Just look at him he looks horrible and hungry,” one of the other Ayra said.

The voice was that of a young female. She was one of the shorter Ayra whose weapon was lowered. Max was glad that at least one of the Ayra was taking his side. Maybe they were not all bad. Max was still a little worried though, for he still had three rifle barrels in his face.

“Look at what he’s wearing! He is wearing the uniform of the humans Army. I don’t care if he looks horrible, he’s the enemy!”

“No. You’re wrong…”

“Shut up!” Fal yelled at Max, then continued talking, “and besides, shouldn’t you be paranoid in a wasteland like this?!”

Max unexpectedly, even to himself, answered Fal’s question, “No… you shouldn’t. Paranoia leads to panic. Panic leads to hesitation. That means death on a ‘wasteland’ like this. I know. It’s happened to me.”

Fal looked at Max with a glare, “I said, Shut. Up.”

All was suddenly quiet except for the constant drumming of the rain. This only lasted for a few seconds though, and then a horrible and terrifying sound could be heard echoing in the parking level above them.

Max’s heart stopped cold when he heard the sound, he knew exactly what it was. Cree tended to make the noise constantly whenever they stalk their prey. They did it to strike fear into the mind of their quarry, and it worked.

Every time the Cretin breathed in or out, it sounded almost like slow purring. The noise had always freaked Max out. It sent chills through his body causing goose bumps to form on his skin and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Fal dropped his rifle, letting it hang on the sling around his shoulder. He drew his side arm and stepping towards Max, grabbed the neck of Max’s body armor and stuck the barrel of the gun under Max’s chin.

“You led it right to us!” He yelled.

“Fal For all you know, you could have led it here with all of your yelling…”

It was the female Ayra again. He knew that Fal was the one of the reasons for the Cree’s presence but he also knew that it was him who had probably shown the Cree a way to get to them. Cree are extremely fast learners, and are very smart.

The Cree that Max had seen probably saw him too, however wanted to surprise Max by sneaking up on him but then it saw all the Ayra and decided to take the higher ground.

Fal’s constant and very irritating yelling brought Max back to reality, “Shut up Aeila!”

Fal took a last glance at Max and then continued, “Syler, Brale… Go check it out.”

Urban Survival: Chapter 2 (re-writen)

The two brutish looking Ayra walked off towards the ramp to the next level of the parking garage; weapons at the ready.

Fal snatched the rifle out of Max’s hand and threw it to the ground were the metal of the gun clattered on the concrete.

“Fal, why are you sending those two Jokers to take care of it?” The Ayra in the skull armor asked. “Their stupid and clumsy, they’ll probably attract more of those things.”

Max could not help but notice how the Ayra’s voice sounded like he had an Australian accent, which he found… strange. Nevertheless, listening to what the skull armored Ayra had said, Max looked at the two Ayra walking up the ramp. One thing that he noticed first was their rifles. Neither of them was silenced and this worried Max, a lot.

“Fal, or whatever your name is, he’s right,” Max said nodding towards the Ayra who now disappeared through the opening in the ceiling. “They have unsuppressed firearms. If they shoot at that thing, others are bound to hear it. They could attract a murder.”

Fal jabbed the barrel of his gun harder into Max’s chin, “I’m going to murder you if you don’t shut up!”

Max flinched as the cold metal barrel dug into his skin. Aeila appeared as if she was going to say something but she was interrupted by two loud screams and loud bursts of gunfire. The four of them looked around.

The two brutish Ayra fell through a hole in the ceiling where the concrete had given way to the weather and landed in a heap. They quickly scrambled to their feet aiming their rifles up and through the hole. Max could hear their loud and heavy breathing.

“What happened?” Fal asked yelling at the two oafs.

“It just… snuck up on us,” the large one cried.

“How the hell did it sneak up on you in the light?”

They didn’t answer but instead let off a few more rounds through the hole. The shots rang and echoed off the buildings in the city.

Fal only now realized how loud they actually were and yelled, “Stop shooting!”

The two Ayra ceased fire and backed away from the hole. The smaller of the two backed up into the open wall that faced the street. All was quiet, too quiet.

Unexpectedly hands grabbed the Ayra from behind clawing at the Ayra’s armor. The Ayra screamed as a pale and angry head tried to gnaw through his helmet. As the angry and hungry zombie clawed at the Ayra’s chest, it hit something that started beeping.

“Get off of me!” the helpless Ayra cried.

The Ayra finally managed to pull away from the zombies clutches. The zombie however kept hold of the beeping object, which had detached from the Ayra’s armor, and began to gnaw on that instead.

“Get down!” Fal yelled pulling Max to the ground with him.

The Ayra all dove for cover as the beeping continued. Max threw his hands over his head and tensed up. The beeping stopped abruptly and all seemed deathly quiet.

The whole of the parking garage shook as the device in the zombies mouth exploded, sending flames and shrapnel everywhere. What was left of the zombie toppled to the streets below. Pieces of concrete fell scattering on the ground around Max.

He looked at where the explosion had taken place and accessed the damage. Dust hung heavy in the air and caused them all to cough and wheeze. There was now no longer a wall or floor within a six foot radius of where the detonation had taken place.
“Holy crap!”

The female Ayra, Aeila, was the first to get up. She ran over to check on the Ayra who had been attacked by the zombie, but he waved her off pushing himself up off the floor. As everyone slowly got to their feet, a horrible shriek rang out from the streets.

Fal ran over to the wall where Max had originally climbed over and peered out onto the street, “Oh no…”

Zombies were running at the parking garage from every corner of the street, there were hundreds of them.

“Told you so,” the skull armored Ayra mocked.

Fal turned and glared at the Ayra, “Shut up! Let’s get out of here.”

He then began to sprint toward the ramp and towards the upper levels of the garage. The others followed, Max was about to follow until he watched the zombie up in the level above jump out of the hole and attack Aeila.

The momentum of the zombie threw them both over the edge and through the hole in the floor the explosion had made. Aeila barely managed to grab onto the edge of the hole but was able to keep her grip.

Aeila cried out for help but the other Ayra kept running, ignoring her. The zombie that had attacked her clung onto her legs clawing at her armor, trying to find a way to tear at her flesh. Max saw that the other Ayra were just going to leave her there to die.

Although he had, had his differences with the Ayra he would sooner save one, than let those creatures kill one. He ran over to the edge of the hole and stuck out his left hand to offer his help. Aeila gladly took it for she was struggling to keep her grasp on the cold concrete and the thrashing zombie on her legs was making things twice as difficult.

Although her visor was dark and Max could not see her face, he could sense how terrified she was. Pulling her up until her elbow was over the ledge, Max drew his pistol. He pointed it at Aeila and her eyes grew wide with more fear.

“Duck!”

Aeila quickly ducked her head and Max pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark; it ripped through the forehead of the zombie assailant. The zombie’s expression went from anger to blank as its limbs went limp and the zombie crashed to floor below.

Max helped Aeila the rest of the way up onto the solid ground.

“Why did you help me?” Aeila asked, breathing heavily.

“Now is not the time, we’ve got to go!”

Aeila looked at out at the street. The zombies were now upon the garage and beginning to climb the walls of the building. “Right sorry, come on!”

She dragged Max towards the ramp to the next level and he followed quickly. They ran through each level until they reached the roof level. As they ran through the opening to the roof Max could feel the rain patter against his helmet again. He had gotten used to the dry shelter of the parking garage, so the rain almost stung as it hit his bare skin.

As they set foot on the roof, the first thing he noticed was that Fal and the other Ayra were not there. Aeila lead Max to one of the sides of the building. The side was facing a twenty-story building, and he noticed that there was a large makeshift bridge. The bridge extended from the twenty-story building to the parking garages roof. Aeila stepped onto it but stopped when Max did.

“Come on!”

“What is this place?” Max asked, hesitant to go into the building.

Aeila turned back and grabbed Max’s arm, pulling him onto the bridge, “It’s a safe house. Now come on!”

Max was still hesitant on whether or not he should follow the Ayra, but a loud screech from the zombies pursuing them made him think again. He decided it was better to live than to be ripped to pieces by the angry zombies, so he followed Aeila.

The bridge was ancored to a room in the building where the windows had been cleared, leading to a single door guarded by two Ayra soldiers. Once Aeila and Max had reach the end of the bridge, and set foot into the room there was a loud creaking noise and the bridge began to rise. It worked like a medieval drawbridge; two large cables reached down from higher up in the building and connected to either side of the bridge at the end. These cables pulled the bridge up and away from the parking garage.

Max could see from around the bridge, as it came to a stop flat against the building, the zombies come sprinting into view. Hundreds of them came pouring out onto the roof of the parking garage and even as they reached the edge of the building, the zombies behind them continued forward shoving the zombies in the front over the edge and flailing to their doom.

Behind him, he heard the only door in the room open and he turned around. An arrogant looking Ayra walked through staring at Max. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and his short brown hair looked ragged. He looked like a human without the helmet and was probably in his late thirties, early forties in human years. The pistol he carried looked rustic and old.

More Ayra soldiers walked past him from behind and went behind Max; two of the soldiers grabbed his arms and restrained him.

“Jaq, he’s alright, he saved my life.” Aeila pleaded with the arrogant looking Ayra.

Jaq shook his head, “Aeila, it doesn’t matter. He’s human, we can’t trust him!”

“Sir, I didn’t come here to fight! I came here to survive!” Max told the so-called Jaq.

Jaq struck Max across the face with his handgun. Starbursts erupted in Max’s skull and his vision began to blur. He would have fallen over if it were not for the two Ayra holding him up from behind.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Jaq said. Grabbing Max by his cheeks and forcing Max to look him in the eyes and continued, “Lucky for you I can’t afford to let you go. You know where we live.”

Violently letting Max’s cheeks go, he stepped back. Aeila continued to plea for Max but Jaq ignored her. He motioned to the soldiers holding Max, but before Max could peer behind him, more starbursts erupted in his skull and his vision went black.

(sequel to Urban Survival: Chapter 1 (re-writen))

Urban Survival: Chapter 1 (re-writen)

Max stood there in the rain looking up at the third story of a parking garage. There was a dull red orange glow of a fire, only just visible in the dark gloomy light of the sun.

His tattered, urban BDU’s were hardly protection against the heavy onslaught of rain that pelted the destroyed war torn streets. He had traveled light for his mission four days ago so that he would be able to get out faster if things went wrong. More or less things had.

Knowing that he had to get to shelter soon, Max decided he would check out the camp, hoping that it was some friendly human survivors. Unfortunately, a closed, metal security gate blocked off the only entrance. He surveyed the area and saw a low wall that sloped up almost to the second story.

Before he thought about it he began sprinting towards the garage. The assault rifle slung over his back bounced against the Kevlar plating strapped around his torso. His breath was hot in his scarf wrapped around his neck and chin.

He leaped up on to the wall and ran along it, his Kevlar helmet keeping the rain out of his eyes. Diving forward and grabbing the ledge of the wall to the second story. Max pulled himself up and over it. He landed in the empty parking lot and pulled out his silenced pistol. Looking around he saw nothing; a few abandoned cars and some rubble.

Double-checking the gray-lit floor to make sure there was no hostile or dangerous being, he turned around and looked out onto the side of the building. There was a pipe that ran up the wall to the top of the building, holstering his pistol, Max climbed up onto the ledge of the wall and jumped over to the pipe. He climbed hand over hand until he was straight across from the third story parking lot. Max let go with his right hand, shaking it in order to get blood flow into his cold numbing fingers. Doing the same with his other hand, he decided he was ready.

He leapt over to the ledge and pulled himself up just enough so that he could see over it and into the garage. Max ducked down quickly, however, when he saw that there was a small group of four to five Ayra huddled around a small fire eating something that looked like canned food. Although he had only seen the figures for a second that was all he needed to see the blue and gold armor of the Ayra.

Max looked at the ground below and cursed under his breath when he saw a zombie walking across the road past him. The creature’s growls and heavy breathing could be heard through the noise of the rain. He hoped that it would not look up and he knew he could not go down there, even killing the zombie, could cause a murder. He hugged the cold, slick wall until the zombie had turned the corner and disappeared.

Max took a deep breath and decided to deal with the Ayra, rather than try his luck with hundreds of zombies. His wet hands grabbed the rifle in anticipation of conflict.

He placed the rifle on top of the ledge. Twisting his feet for better grip, he hoisted himself up and over. One of the Ayra unfortunately saw him out of the corner of their eye before Max had even made it half way over and yelled, “Human!”

The Ayra got up. Throwing down its food and shutting the visor on its helmet, it raised its rifle and aimed it at Max as the other Ayra scrambled to their feet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa I’m not here to fight,” Max said in a calm tone, stepping over the wall and holding both arms and his rifle near his head as a sign of surrender. “I just need some shelter. I… I was also hoping that you could spare some food.”

He watched the Ayra’s trigger finger so that at the slightest sign of movement he would have a chance to get out of the path of the bullet. Three of the five Ayra took a few steps closer to Max weapons poised. The other two had lowered their weapons as if they decided Max was not a threat. One of them was still intimidating however. It had used some kind of white paint to draw the rough shape of a skull on its helmet and visor. This made it look like some kind of beast.

“You alone?” a large and bulky Ayra asked.

His voice was deep and strong. Max looked at all the Ayra the back at the one who addressed him, “…Yeah.”

“Let’s kill him.”

“Wait… I don’t believe him,” the first Ayra said putting a hand out, stopping the large Ayra from stepping towards Max.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s lying, that’s what I mean.” The Ayra said with hatred in his voice, “I bet he has a team out there on standby, sent here to take us out.”

Max could not help but think how outrageous the Ayra’s thought was. Why would the humans send a whole squad of soldiers to take out five Ayra, when a team of two snipers could easily do the job quickly and quietly?

Then, as if the Ayra had read Max’s mind, he looked past him and at the surrounding buildings, “I bet he also has snipers ready to take us out!”

The Ayra took a few steps back away from the open wall, his voice got louder and faster with each word.

“Fal, you’re paranoid. Just look at him he looks horrible,” one of the other Ayra said.

The voice was that of a young female. She was one of the Ayra whose weapon was lowered. Max was glad that at least one of the Ayra was taking his side. Maybe they were not all bad. Max was still a little confused though, for he still had three rifle barrels in his face.

“Look at what he’s wearing! He is wearing the uniform of the humans Army. I don’t care if he looks horrible, he’s the enemy!”

“No. you’re wrong…”

“Shut up!” Fal yelled at Max, then continued talking, “and besides, shouldn’t you be paranoid in a wasteland like this?!”

Max unexpectedly, even to himself, answered Fal’s question, “No… you shouldn’t. Paranoia leads to panic. Panic leads to hesitation. That means death on a ‘wasteland’ like this.”

Fal looked at Max with a glare, “I said, Shut. Up.”

All was suddenly quiet except for the constant drumming of the rain. This only lasted for a few seconds though, and then a horrible and terrifying sound could be heard echoing in the parking level above them.

Max’s heart stopped cold when he heard the sound, he knew exactly what it was. Zombies made the noise constantly whenever they stalk their prey. They did this to strike fear into the mind of their quarry.

Every time the creature breathed in or out, it sounded almost like slow purring. The noise always had and still creeped Max out, it sent chills through his body and he could feel goose bumps forming on his skin.

Fal dropped his rifle, letting it hang on the sling around his shoulder. He drew his side arm and stepping towards Max, grabbed the neck of Max’s body armor and stuck the barrel of the gun under Max’s chin.

“You led it right to us!” He yelled.

“Fal. For all you know, you could have led it here with all you yelling…”

It was the female Ayra again. He knew that was Fal was the one that led it to them but he also knew that it was him that taught the zombie how to get to them. Zombies are extremely fast learners, and are very smart. The zombie that Max had seen probably saw him too, however wanted to surprise Max by sneaking up on him but then saw all the Ayra too and decided to scare all of them.

Fal’s constant and very irritating yelling brought Max back to reality, “Shut up Aeila!”

Fal took a last glance at Max and then continued, “Syler, Brale… Go check it out.”

Catharsis

Shaking hands.

He presses the barrel against the side of his head. There’s just the one bullet, and that’s good because he only really needs just one.

His pores sweat; one drop drips onto his shirt and creates the only perfect circle he’s ever really noticed. His pupils dilate for a second; then retract.

He’s left the note on the refrigerator. What will they think?

He shuts his eyes, and sees a marriage, children, a legacy.

He hastily puts the gun away and rushes to the kitchen. He tears the note into pieces and throws it in the trash.

He’d almost gone Hemingway. He chuckles at the thought. And then his shaking knees give way and he vomits.

Quitters!!

Frank Freeman wrote a letter to his boss describing why he didn't feel like his work at Calan Industries was satisfying, in a creative or physical sense. Frank's main complaints were:

First; Frank had obtained a degree in Classical History, not a degree in paper filing. His work was boring and despite having done the same tasks repetitively for ten years, he had seen no raise or variation in duties.

And Secondly; Frank did not much care for the way his boss was running his shift. He felt his boss placed too much emphasis on quantity and not enough emphasis on quality.

And the day came when Frank decided he would present the letter to his boss.

Frank chose his finest suit, gray pinstripe, with a gleaming silver tie. He combed his hair and shaved every follicle from his face. On his way to the office he listened to a classical waltz from the late nineteenth century, which stirred him into a confident mood, so much so that he cut off a white pickup truck that (in his opinion) had taken too long to merge into his lane. Maybe, Frank thought, maybe I look like an asshole now, but that doesn't really matter to me.

He wondered what he would do, if he wasn't working at Calan Industries, and decided perhaps that he'd sign on for a tour of duty and see some action, or maybe he'd try to find a guitar, and start playing again on the side of the street. Anything seemed preferable to his job at Calan Industries.

The glass doors slid open as he approached them, and he walked across the carpeted floor towards the front desk, where he set his briefcase momentarily on the ground to tell the receptionist that, "I'm clocking in, the time is eight fifty three."

The receptionist's monitor burned green and Frank stepped past it (scooping his briefcase from the carpet) into the hallway. There was an open elevator to his left, and he stepped inside it's faux-wood interior. He ordered it to the twenty third story, and stood inside patiently as the box rose.

It opened and the cubicles in front of him were still. A telephone rang, and was promptly picked up, a soft female voice answered. A hundred fingers typed against keyboards and set a quick percussionist beat.

Aside from the woman who had answered the phone, no one was talking. She was telling someone (likely from the military) about the shipments that had been delayed due to an oil spill.

Frank walked down the center aisle of cubicles towards the door where the name emblazoned on the door was that of his boss. He turned the door knob and stepped in.

With his letter held high, he shouted, "Boss, I'm putting in my two weeks!"

His boss did not say a word. Frank saw the pistol that his boss had placed against his temple. Frank saw his boss' eyes, wide and fearful, as though the entire world was staring at him.

Frank watched his boss pull the trigger, as brain and blood scattered into the air. Frank's boss tumbled backwards from his chair, and the pistol fell to the ground.

It was a solid steel kind of pistol, with a spring loaded clip and thick black paint. A yellow stripe ran down the length of its barrel, with the three-pronged Calan Industries logo on its handle. Frank had remembered marketing that pistol to a Private Military Corporation, boasting of its killing ability.

Frank stood open mouthed, not sure what that meant.

A few hours later, the Corporate Manager found Frank sitting at his desk, staring at a blank computer screen. "You know you're going to be moved into that office by the end of the week, right? Someone's got to fill his shoes, and you're the best fit."

Re-Writen: Urban Survival (Notice)

I am re-writing what i have of Urban Survival. Its the same story, same original characters (a few new), same idea. Max is just put through a different situation before he gets into the Ayra safehouse. I should hopefully have the first chapter done soon.

H.P.

In the vast oceans between worlds, where the water had infinite depth, shapes turned beneath the waves and worked to force their way to the surface, with malicious intent. A mariner from an ancient world saw the darkness moving beneath his ship, and ran to grab his radio. The movement shifted the water and created a massive wave that smashed his ship to plywood.

The wreckage washed ashore some years later, on a desert world that never saw sunlight. A tribesman with a painted face and spear came across the wreckage and discovered that the sailor had recorded a message. The tribesman brought this message back to his friends, and they spoke it to one another, and word spread. And as the tribes formed cities, and the cities formed nations, the words of the broken ship grew in significance.

When philosophers rose, they debated the meaning of the words, of a language they did not understand.

When philosophers were replaced by religion, the religions all claimed that it was a prophecy, if only anyone could understand it.

When religion was replaced by science, they studied its linguistics, and ventured to the wrecked ship, discovering a miniature library. And they studied this archive, and slowly began to understand the warning. It was a warning! The religions claimed that it was the prophecy! They said that prayer must begin.

The governments of the nations decided that the threat was imaginary, but also decided to prepare. They outlawed travel on the high seas and began to construct massive weapons. They mined their islands and lands as long as they could, and constructed a fleet of cruisers and battleships. Wars were forgotten as they prepared for this massive apocalypse.

Many snuck out into the high waves, and began to worship. They were greeted by emissaries of these great beings. The great beings demanded sacrifice, and these worshippers returned to their world to collect. The governments split in two, those who believed in the sacrifice, and those who did not. A great war raged, in which even greater weapons were created to battle one another. By the end of the war, their resources were consumed, and so they decided to brave the waters to find this other world where this cryptic message had come from.

This desert world came across a forested world, and they quickly made war with those there. The forest-people were ill equipped, still just barely constructing firearms, and the forest-world lost its resources. And so the desert people continued from world to world, until they were sated. They decided to retrace their steps back to their original world, where they resettled their cities, content with their supplies.

A scout reports having seen great movements beneath the waves, and the desert world rallies its navy. It is time, they decide, to find this great apocalypse. Every man, woman, and child is found and gathered for this task. Each is taught how to operate some piece of their great machinery. Some of their ships require a thousand workers to keep working. Their weapons can smite worlds from existence at the touch of a finger.

This fleet glides into the open sea, where the movement had been seen. But the fleet comes to a halt, seeing nothing there. As the scout is being chided, sonar detects a massive object pushing through the ocean towards them. They had time enough to warm their weapons before it wiped them out.

The monster saw the smashed navy on the edge of its finger and shook it off into the waves.

The Third Wish

"And for my third and final wish," said Esteban, "I wish for the end of the world to never happen."

The genie grimaced, then pointed to the sky. A fizzle of sparks shot from his fingertips. "There, it's done."

"That wasn't very spectacular. I expected a... Something more? Is that it?" Esteban asked.

"Well, you know, you're probably the hundredth person to wish for that. The world will never end because it's been wished a hundred times that we'll all exist for infinity. We've had one person wish that it would end, but a few wishes down the line the world got wished back into infinity. As a consolation prize for the man who wanted the world to end, we put him on a copied world from this one, and then ended that one. He never knew we did it, and he got his wish. A win win situation as far as I'm concerned. I wonder where he is now..."

Just John

John's grandfather had told him of days when men built skyscrapers and machine guns, and John dreamed of those days like he dreamed of God. He thought about the salvation that would arrive if those technologies ever reached them; technology like that would destroy the crying ones and elevate their town to new levels. The siege was infrequent but constant as well. Some days they were surrounded, some days they were gone. John fought them off when he could, along with the other spearmen.

Their town was called Hamlet, and it had been founded hundreds of years ago as a trading post. They didn't trade anymore, but it was instead a bastion of humanity. Their population rose as refugees flooded in. John had seen those stalwart survivors from Los Angeles arrive two years ago, and together they'd built Hamlet’s walls further out and expanded their town to meet the needs of the larger population. John knew the inner workings of these activities because his father was mayor.

But John spent most of his time, spear in hand, defending Hamlet from the crying ones. He would kill them and then put on leather gloves to carry the bodies to a funeral pyre, which served as a disposal as well as a towering pillar of smoke for survivors to flock to. John didn't like the refugees anymore, though. The more people there were the more they quarreled. And if he wasn't defending the town against the crying ones, he was defending it against its own people.

There was one bar in town, and one morning a man with a rusty revolver tried to hold it up. John was called in immediately to deal with it. "Drop the gun or I'll kill you," John said as he entered.

"What are you supposed to do,” the robber said, “Stay where you are or I’ll shoot. And I don’t want to kill no kids.”

John proceeded to show him that spears can be thrown; years of spearing crying ones for sport offered its advantage here. He never missed, and that day he’d aimed for the eye.

But one cold winter day he killed a crying one and then began to cry. He was at first afraid that he was infected, that he'd feel depression like he'd never felt, and while he felt depression like he’d never felt, he checked his tears constantly and they were never bloody. He detailed this story to his father, who said that it was merely him growing up and having trouble with his Hormones. “In time, your hormones will quiet down, and you’ll see these people as I do.” John did not know what Hormones were, and thus the advice did not help him.

So he went down to the bar and detailed the story to the barkeeper.

She grinned, "It's this damn prison your father's got us in. I was hoping someone other than us would realize how bleak it all is. The crying ones are outlasting us, and we don't have a steady enough stream of supplies to deal with our growing population. Everyone feels trapped and everyone is too afraid of your father and the spearmen to do anything about it.

And so John asked her what her advice would be.

"I’d deal with it," she said, and poured him a second glass.

The night passed, mostly uneventful. As the hours passed a rougher group entered, and soon it was full and full of noise. A bearded man sat down on the stool to John’s left and proceeded to order a drink.

The barkeep apparently recognized him and said, “So this kid here is tired of this here town, what do you recommend?”

"Well I'm achin' to try to get out of here," said the bearded man, turning to face John. "If we can get out past the wall's guards then we might be able to book it all the way down to Sacramento. I hear they're doing much better there."

“I can use my status to get us out,” John explained. “They know me and they’ll believe if I say we’re just pursuing something.”

“That sounds excellent,” the bearded man said.

"What's your name, sir?" John asked.

"My name is Jack Carentan," Jack said. "What's yours?"

"John," John said, "Just John."

"Alright, Just, I'm going to get together some men, supplies, and ammo, and then we can head out. Let's meet back here, midnight. A week from now."

"That sounds..." John said, trailing off. "I'll try to show up."

"Good," grinned Jack, "Can't wait to see you there, Just."

John went home, feeling rather dizzy from the drinks and fell asleep with his head swimming with ideas. The next day he awoke and gathered his spear and went back to the wall, where a crowd of some fifteen crying ones had gathered. He leapt in and sated his depression, transmuting it to anger.

As he went to sleep that night, he did not even remember Jack with the Beard; the only thing on his mind was killing and more killing.

The rest of the week was a week full of bloodshed, and there isn't much other than that to say. The pyre burned brighter than he'd ever seen it (he admired this as thinking it was a week’s work well done), and as he walked back home he saw Jack standing with a few others outside of the bar. He realized that it had been a week, and that it was midnight. He decided to tell Jack that he'd decided not to come when John's father rushed past him with some other spearmen.

John saw Jack pull up a rifle and fire, knocking down one of the spearmen. But the spearmen were too numerous, and like John, deadly accurate with spears. Jack was the only survivor; after pulling a spear from his stomach he fled, shooting down another one of the spearmen before he vanished. The other men who were there with Jack lay dead.

John's father walked over to John after seeing him, and said, "These men wanted to betray us. They forgot that this town offers untold amounts of protection. I have to keep them safe, and if anyone gets out that will make the others think that it’s a good idea. They don’t know any better.”

But John’s father’s words did little to alleviate John’s misgivings of the situation. He went to sleep thinking of poor Jack and the trapped people in the city.

The next morning John awoke with a goal in mind. He would find freedom. As he walked around Hamlet, he saw two children playing make believe; one miming a crying one and the other gripping a stick as though it were a spear. He stopped them before anybody got hurt, but the children looked up crying as their fun was stopped. Their mother came out and scolded John; "How dare you touch my children, you tyrant."

And John thought about how they would have hurt one another if he had not been there. He thought about how Jack and his men might have died if they had escaped, infected by crying ones or killed by bandits.

John found Jack lying in an alleyway and offered him a drink and his shirt as a bandage. "Thanks," Jack said. "I didn't know your father knew about my plan. Listen, you have to get out before it's too late. I think your father wants to control everyone, and I don't know if it will pass onto you if you stay here."

"I don't know, I think it is passing on already," John said, thinking about the children he'd interrupted. "I need to leave."

"Take this," Jack said, offering a rolled up parchment, "It will give you access to Sacramento; it's like a key to the city. Just show it to the gate guards there. Once I'm better, I'll follow."

John nodded, "I'll see you in some time then, Jack Carentan."

"I'll see you too, Just John," Jack said smiling. "Safe travels!"

John used his status as a guard to get to the gate, and then reported having seen a crying one in the forest. "Go after it then," said the guard on duty, "But come back as soon as you can so you do not get surrounded."

"Can I have a spear?” John asked. And then realizing he was already holding one, asked, “An extra spear, I mean?" He’d need it in case he lost his first one.

"Sure," said the guard. "I don't see why not."

John took it and tied it to his waist, and then ran off into the woods. He kept running until he found the road going south, and followed it until he saw a sign with a word similar to the one on the parchment. Night fell and he slept in one of the metal bodies (that he thought were cars), and then in the morning kept running.

He came to a bridge at nightfall and started to cross it, but as he was halfway across he saw a horde of crying ones on the other side. He gripped his spear and started in, slashing amongst the ranks of the enemy.

He leapt backwards from the swarm, amazed that there still remained enough to effectively keep him from crossing the bridge he was fatigued and decided to turn around and find another way to cross the river to Sacramento. He turned to see another horde blocking the other side of the bridge. He realized they must have been following him, and his time on the bridge must have given them time enough to catch up. They were a horde that was larger than the one in front of him. He knew there were too many. He knew they would turn him into one of them if he stayed where he was.

And then he remembered why he left Hamlet, he remembered how he wanted to escape the control, the utter depression. And here was the ultimate symbol of control and depression. The crying ones would turn him into one of them, and he'd be crying, in eternal sadness, unable to stop, controlled against doing so.

He looked at the rushing water below, and thought about how he still had a chance to control his life before it ended. He could choose. He could choose to end it. He climbed to the edge and then turned, to see the crying ones were now completely around him. He slashed and slashed and then lost his footing.

Falling, he called out into the air. "Freedom! Freedom forever!"



Jack Carentan found John's mangled form downriver, at the second bridge. It was rotted and at least a week old, but he saw the spear tied up at the figure's waist and knew who it was that would have carried it.

Jack dragged the body to the ground and dug a quick grave. Sacramento, just three miles down the road, could wait for an elegy for a dead child.

This kind of thing happens all the time...

“So you said they just found him here, at the foot of the Memorial Bridge, half-eaten by sea vermin,” I asked, “This being… Charles Kooper?” I glanced at the body on the slab, whom met my verbal description perfectly.

“Yes, this being Charles Kooper. He jumped over sometime around twelve yesterday. Midday at least,” the coroner said. “Listen, I know you think there’s something more to this, but there isn’t.”

“But what about the guardrail? It was broken," I said. "That could easily mean someone pushed him off. He was connected to several criminals, so it could be a revenge burn."

“The guardrail was broken?” The coroner asked, “How absurd! Of course it was broken,” the coroner said. He walked over to his desk and sat down in front of his computer. “You know that the city has never taken measures to keep that bridge safe. At least not lately.”

“Oh I haven't lived here long, only a few weeks," I explained.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, “So you don’t know then.”

“Don’t know what? About jumpers?"

“This kind of thing happens all the time," the coroner said, a disinterested look in his eye.

like where when why

like:

...you've put extra weights on your shoes and your legs ache all day
...swimming in cement and it's just getting thicker and thicker
...dancing on Jupiter

where:

...the birds are stone and fall like bits of broken planes
...store clerks steal your money at the cash register
...the homeless beg for mercy beneath the feet of God

when:

...the sun is red and the skies are too
...you've realized it's too late to change your order
...the gas is almost out and you're hoping that you have enough left

why:

...the politicians never cry
...diamonds shine brightest in the light
...criminals only come out at night

Avalanche

It’s like an avalanche when you see it
His hands cupped to the sides of his mouth
The mountain comes crashing down
The stones are mixed in the snow like
The pebbles in the snowballs you used to throw
And they overtake the town
And all the buildings fall over
And the dust is a warning sign
So that everyone downhill can get clear
Because light travels faster than death
At least for now

The Gift of Learning

Learning is a gift, a gift we abuse.

And what is a gift without proper use?

Something no one can appreciate.

Don't ever stop learning and teaching.

For without it, we have no use.

Give and receive, this is the gift of learning.

War

War is a game which we all play

They send out pawns so they can stay

Some loose their lives and fade to gray

We fly their colors to make the day

Text Adventure: Urban Survival 4

Max’s eyes shot open and he looked around. He was dazed and felt that his head was spinning, but soon everything that had happened sunk back in. He shot up only to realize that his hands and feet were restrained and that he was lying on his side. His vision was still blurred but he could make out several Ayra figures and a bright fire nearby.

Soon he noticed one of the Ayra moving towards him. He recognized her as the Ayra from before who asked him for help and got him in this mess in the first place.

"How are you?" she started to say but stopped when she looked at his face and stared at him awkwardly, her brown hair was in a ponytail draped over her right shoulder.

Max ignored her look and started talking himself, “How am I. How am I? Oh that’s right, I’m tied up!”

She pulled some kind of cloth out of a pocket on her belt and began to reach for his face. Max instinctively pulled away at first but realized that there was no way for him to resist so he gave in.

She rubbed the cloth against his right cheek and he winced as the damp cloth touched the large gash from where the one Ayra had hit him.

“You’re a very stupid Human…”

“Risky,” he corrected.

She looked at him and cocked her head.

“I’m risky, not stupid.”

“Risky, stupid. They’re the same thing. Traveling alone in a world like this is both risky and stupid.”

Max thought back to when he was separated from his squad a few days ago. He hadn’t chosen to travel alone they had just run into trouble on the way to the evac zone.

He shook his head, “so many things went wrong.”

The Ayra stopped cleaning the wound, “what?”

“Sometimes things don’t happen as planned,” Max said thinking about how his battle buddy and right hand man was killed just the other day. “Especially in this world, one small mistake and everything is jeopardized.”

The Ayra looked at him intently.

“After that mistake, risks have to be taken. You can’t hesitate or all can be lost.”

There was a pause as the Ayra studied him. He shifted in his restraints and found that he could sit up.

Without saying a word, the Ayra reached into a different pocket and produced an adhesive strip of cloth. Reaching towards Max again, she placed the bandage over his cut.

Max looked at the other Ayra in the room. The room was well lit by the fire they stood around. He could see the smoke drifting up to the ceiling twelve feet above. A hole in the ceiling acted as a vent, letting the smoke out to who knows where.

Max looked back at the Ayra who had bandaged him, “if the Ayra hate Humans so much, why keep me alive?”

She laughed, “don’t worry, we’ll find something for you to do.”

This Ayra didn’t seem to hate humans at all; in fact she seemed almost, “you know you don’t seem to hate me, you seem kind of friendly. Aren’t you mad that I killed some of your friends back there?”

He had no time to react as her hand flew through the air and slapped him across the face. She was surprisingly strong and Max’s cheek felt as if it were on fire.

Looking up, Max expected to see an angry face but to his surprise she didn’t look mad at all, she looked unusually calm.

“You may be stupid but you’re not unwise. We made a mistake. We were sent out to get supplies,” she looked down at her knees, “but it was raining so we thought there was no harm in trying to wait it out. Those weren’t my friends you killed, I hardly knew them. They were just part of the selected scout party. they’re from the lower levels of the building where the Na’li Ayra live. They despise Humans. I was just one of the lucky ones to get chosen for the scout party. ”

“How many of you are there?”

“There’s a whole colony of us surviving here. The Na’li has a couple hundred who live in the lower levels of the building and we have, maybe, a hundred of us who live up here in the upper levels.”

“And what are you?” asked, his eyes wide with amazement; he had no idea there were so many Ayra in one place.

She laughed again, “We’re the Myrx. We don’t hate the humans. After all the Ayra and the Humans are virtually identical to each other.”

Max studied her in the dull light and saw she was right. He had never really noticed it so much before but she could pass off as a Human.

“So if the Myrx don’t hate me, why am I tied up?” Max asked confused.

“I still haven’t been able to work something out with Jaq,” she said.

“Who’s…”

“Jaq is a Na’li and sort of like the leader of our colony. I mean we have different groups in the colony, but everything that goes on in our safe house has to be brought up with him first.”

The Ayra paused, her face stiffened as if she were thinking really hard and then her face light up with excitement.

She got up abruptly and began running towards a door, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait! Hey wait!”

“You can call me Aeila,” she called back right before she went through the door.

“Aeila,” Max whispered to himself. “Hey, Aeila wait!”

It was too late, she had gone, Max looked at the other Myrx in the room. One walked over to him and handed him a plate of food, “Here eat something.”

He stared at the food for a second and without answering he dug into the food, he was starving.

-------------

Max sat there for what seemed like hours listening to a few the Myrx conversations which he actually found quite interesting. But something caught his attention and he look up at the door. He...