Testament of the Survivors

Another day on the route.

"In a post-apocalyptic world, one of the most profitable professions has become being a member of trade companies and caravans. Convoys of enhanced vehicles, protected by heavily armed mercenaries, travel hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers, moving from settlement to settlement to exchange goods essential for the proper development and survival of the communities. Unfortunately, as the importance of this profession grows, so does its danger. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people risk their lives daily to feed their families, ensuring humanity survives to see another day."

The door to the room was ripped off its hinges and crashed to the ground with a loud bang, letting light flood in. Two people in thick clothing and gas masks, aiming through their rifles, entered with flashlights, casting a bit more light on the all-encompassing darkness. The pair found themselves inside what looked like an abandoned medical clinic. Piles of bones lay everywhere, and the walls and floor were covered in black residue and fleshy vines that seemed to have dried up. The two moved deeper inside, shining their flashlights, searching for threats. The first, dressed in a heavy leather suit, leather jacket, thick military pants, and a hood with a gas mask underneath, carefully approached the receptionist's desk and peeked behind it, seeing that no one was there. No one, except for dried-out corpses as desiccated as the desert sands. His companion, wearing similar attire but distinguished by a peace symbol on his gas mask, walked step by step with him. Suddenly, behind him, his companion whistled, drawing his attention. He stood by a door labeled: "Storage." The mysterious figure with the peace sign on his gas mask nodded, and his colleague slowly grabbed the handle and pulled, opening the door. They flinched slightly when the door creaked loudly, drawing their weapons, but then lowered them. The figure raised his rifle again, shining the flashlight inside. There was a corridor with several doors on the left and right, but the pair were interested in the door at the end of the hallway, labeled: "Laboratory Equipment." They immediately moved toward it and repeated their previous routine. This time, the first one opened the door while his colleague peeked inside. Luckily, these doors didn't creak, so they didn't fear revealing their position to any potential enemies.

They entered a slightly more spacious room filled with shelves that held special containers, boxes, and cases for laboratory equipment. Everything was covered in dust, cobwebs, and even black mold. Both immediately began searching the room, taking careful steps and closely observing the areas illuminated by their flashlights. Fortunately, luck seemed to be on their side, as there were no threats in the building at the moment. They then took their bags off their backs and started removing the boxes from the shelves, wiping off the dust and grime before opening them to check the contents. Inside, as expected, were vials, syringes, microscopes, and other laboratory equipment. They quickly closed the containers and packed them into their bags. Box after box, until the bags were full. Then they zipped them up and, with a single smooth motion, swung the bags back over their shoulders. He nodded affirmatively, and they set off on their way back.

They remained on high alert, but this time seemed to move faster. They quickly exited the small corridor and entered the reception room. Immediately, they began sprinting toward the exit when suddenly, behind them, they heard the crack of splintering wood and a terrifying screech. They sped up even more, rushing toward the exit. They ran as fast as they could toward the light until its brightness blinded them. At last, they found themselves outside, in a barren landscape, almost red from the blood-colored sky. Their eyes took a few seconds to adjust before they saw the outline of a black van. Its doors slid open, revealing a man in a yellow hazmat suit. He was waving for them to get inside, saying something they couldn't quite hear. Despite this, they understood perfectly and thought of nothing else but escaping the place. The first one bolted forward and jumped into the van, followed closely by the second. The vehicle started moving, but suddenly, the second person felt something grab his boot at the ankle. He looked back through his goggles to see a diabolical, clawed hand gripping his leg. His gaze shifted further, and he saw the creature. It was a demon in humanoid form—red, scaly skin, yet disturbingly human-like, except for the horns and the many black spikes on its back, along with four coal-black eyes. The thing let out an inhuman scream and muttered something in a foreign tongue. The van sped off, but the creature still clung to the scout's leg, refusing to let go. He grabbed the door to keep from being pulled out, but the demon did the same, dragging itself along the ground, and worse yet, it used its free clawed hand to grasp another part of his leg. His teammates quickly drew their weapons, firing at the beast, but it was a difficult task. The driver, feeling the unwanted passenger, swerved erratically, and their teammate clung desperately to the door, which creaked ominously as if signaling that it wouldn't hold much longer. Finally, his partner set his weapon aside and started pulling him inside, but the demon dug its claws deeper into his leg, causing the poor scout to scream in agony. At last, the man in the hazmat suit took a careful aim and fired a precise shot at the demon's head, striking between its empty eyes. The monstrous creature loosened its grip and fell far behind, releasing the scout.