Extinction

It all happened so fast.

It was an insane rush, almost like a storm, or a thick mist, sweeping across the street. It kept getting closer and was gaining speed. People sprinted and fell over, others tore off their shirts and to wrap them around their faces; most hid indoors, sealing the windows and barricading doorways, trapping others outside in the haze to die.

They coughed and spurted black liquid, oil-like streams gushed from their eyes and mouths. I avoided paying attention to the dying to see what exactly was happening to them, but they were dropping like flies and I had to run. Fast.

Many houses were locked up, with people already inside. Some were already broken into by desperate runners, like myself, who unknowingly condemned both themselves and the victims to the oncoming annihilation.

There was a large house with a metal gate around its perimeter that had the most attention, masses of flesh grasping between the bars, desperately trying to get at least a limb inside.

Clasping my shirt against my face, I shuffled past the hoard, hoping to find a different shelter.

I heard someone whistle, like they were trying to catch my attention. I turned my head to see a young man waving a hand in my direction. He gestured for me to follow him, and I did so.

Trying to block out the shrieks at the gate, I squeezed through a narrow alleyway to the back of the large house. The man gestured to a drainpipe snaking up the walls of the building. He whispered that he had seen a window on one of the upper floors that was open. After some light discussion, I decided there was no better option and he braced to boost me to the pipe. I tried to be as courteous as possible in my accent; I took gymnastics when I was a child, so I was confident, but I was definitely rusty. I looked behind me to see the guy leap like a spider and begin to climb effortlessly, which was unsettling.

We reached the roof, but he got there before me, which was even more concerning. He gave me a hand up and sure enough, we found the window and made our way in.

The house wasn't as large as it seemed from the outside. Its walls were old and the wallpaper peeled. Its emptiness was uncanny, there was almost no sound - besides that from the outside - like the world was holding its breath in anticipation. The guy tapped me on my shoulder, gesturing to the doors, which seemed to be warping as people scrabbled against them. We pushed bookshelves and tables blocking any progression, wedging them as best we could. Sooner or later, the sounds ceased, with the wretched supposedly losing conviction.

We secured the other windows and doors in a similar fashion. We then cleared out what seemed like a dinning room. It was in the heart of the house, with multiple rooms between it at the outer walls, and we deemed it the safest one in the building.

Collapsing onto the floor, both of us tried to catch our breath as best we could; lifting those tables and shelves left even our bones aching and the air was thick with dust.

We talked for a while, mostly about what we used to do in our previous lives.

I was planning on sitting my drivers test whilst he was scouting for houses.

He also told me that his name is Liam.

After we finished talking, we mutually decided to begin searching the house for supplies. We already knew some of the layout from setting the barricades, so it didn't take long for us to mentally map out the rooms and start our investigation. The kitchen was surprisingly empty, with cupboards and cabinets left torn open; the majority of their contents scattered across the tiled floor. The previous owners must have left in a hurry.

Combing through all of the rooms, we reached the 2nd floor. The window was still open where we came through, with sounds of desperation leaking in. We made sure to bolt it shut as best we could.

There were no other rooms with any valuable materials besides small amounts of food and cheap bedding we could use to black out the windows. Once we reached the office - at the top of the house - we had searched every possible nook and cranny.

I started to think that this oversized shed wasn't worth all the trouble and I leaned against a wall, burnt-out. It was only then that the wall gave in, making me fall flat on my back. Liam immediately ran to my aid, frightened that I had made a hole in our defences, but I hadn't.

It was a hidden panic room, pitch black and closed off on every side with layers of padding - supposedly for noise isolation. Whilst I scrambled to get up, Liam crawled over me to get into the room; he fumbled around in the dark and eventually found a light switch.

It was no larger than that of a cheap hotel, the ceiling was low with a single bulb hanging from it on a wire. When he turned it on, the sudden light burned into my irises, its impression blinding me.

When my vision returned, it was on Liam's face. He had a look of a frightened child; his eyes looked haunted and gaunt. Raising one trembling hand, he pointed to the other side of the room.

They were black. Their mouths were agape in an endless scream, of which only void dripped out. Lakes of black slick surrounded them, their bodies twisted in writhing pain. They were more than dead; they were-

I held back the retches, averting my gaze. My stomach churned as I clutched it tightly. Pushing Liam out of the way, I ran to the bathroom.

I leaned over the sink, tears streaming down my face. I couldn't cry, my throat was closed up in fear. I lost track on how long I stayed there, staring down at the porcelain basin.

Suddenly, I felt a stab of pain in my neck. I started to gag, rushing to the toilet. Closing my eyes, not wanting to see it, I began to throw up. It didn't feel like much but it hurt like hell.

I started to become concerned. I had thrown up in the past, and it never hurt this much. The sting was still there, like a cramp in my oesophagus. A second wave of puking felt like a laceration to the inside of my throat and I tried to cry out, but no sound came.

Liam knocked on the door, asking if I was alright. I couldn't answer. I noticed he was coughing as I opened my eyes. Glancing at my reflection, I saw the mess on my chin. I averted my gaze, not believing what I saw. I wasn't throwing up vomit or blood; I was coughing up black.

Liam knocked again, saying that when I was done, he wanted to show me something he found in the panic room. I didn't want to tell him. He would leave me if he found out.

I washed away the evidence and rinsed out my mouth, scraping off the black around my lips. I drew blood, but I didn't care; the thought of "he must never know" was on repeat within my head.

I left the bathroom, expecting to see Liam there waiting for me, only to see no one. I searched the hall, the office, the dining room. Nothing.

I slumped down on the floor once again, the day taking toll on my weary legs.

I coughed into my hand, peeling it away to reveal more black oil. The pain wasn't as bad anymore.

I heard a spluttering behind me, I turned my head to see Liam shambling towards me. His face was gaunt, his arms and legs skinny and frail, like he hadn't eaten in days. My vision began to darken as I heard him collapse opposite me.

I heard him cough. I saw the black. I felt the need to laugh at the irony, but no sound came. A quiet, scratchy voice told me what he found. He slid it across the floor towards me and the stock of it hit my leg. The stock of a shotgun.

This was the event that marked the end of humanity.

Its extinction.