Disaster

Chapter 1

Asher's POV

Nobody ever thinks about The Before anymore. It just brings pack painful memories of what used to be. It sometimes makes you feel like there was so much you could've done with your life...

Asher sighed and looked around at the wide open meadow he was in. He wished out of everything he could just have his music back. A rustle from the bushes at the edge of the clearing had him on edge.

He placed his hand on the machete he had tied to his back. Asher had multiple weapons of course, but that was his favorite.

Asher had known being here was dangerous but there were less places for the 'zombies' to hide here. They weren't really zombies, but actually radiated and mutated animals. There were humans of course and they all seemed to eat flesh but zombie was just another label.

The rustling stopped and nothing came his way, but he couldn't assume whatever it was had left it, it could cost him. He straightened his hoodie on his shoulders and started walking along a well worn path towards what he guessed was a city, judging from the broken skyscrapers in the distance.

Asher kept his ears open for any more sounds but heard nothing. A sudden movement to his left had him unsheathing his machete and getting into a defensive stance. He knew the mutants were quick, but they couldn't move that fast. Something felt wrong but he couldn't put his finger on whatever it was.

A crunch to his right had him turning but to slowly. A rotten, green hand reached out and yanked on him, sending him off balance and falling towards the ground.

He grunted as he hit the dirt, his weapon skittering away. 'Damn I'm rusty...' He thought to himself. It'd been awhile since he'd actually fought anything.

The zombie growled and started chomping its teeth and clawing at him. Asher kicked at it and reached into his belt to grab another knife. He slashed at the thing, successfully hitting it right below the left eye.

It screeched and reeled backwards, it's eyeball popping out with a soft squish sound. He grimaced and hopped up, lashing out again. This time, it leaned back and Asher missed.

'It shouldn't be this skilled.' Asher realized, his heart sinking slightly. If the zombies started to be able to fight, any humans that were still alive probably wouldn't survive much longer. He stepped back, towards his machete and threw his knife at it.

It make a strange gurgling noise as the knife thunked into its chest. It wasn't long enough to really do any damage but it gave Asher a few seconds to pick up his fallen weapon and decapitate it.

Asher sighed when it's head rolled off and ripped the knife out of its chest, cleaned both weapons off, and returned them to their sheathes. 'That's odd..' He thought as he watched the zombie bleed purple blood. Usually they didn't bleed or just bled normal red blood. It must've been contaminated but by what?

He shrugged and decided to figure it out later. Right now, he was hungry. He hadn't eaten for almost four days now and his water supply was dwindling. He adjusted his backpack and started down the trail once more, keeping an eye out for any more zombies.

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Ryder's POV

There was only a few packs of dried food left and there were about ten people in his survival group. For some idiotic reason, they'd chosen him to be the "leader" which meant it was his fault if they didn't have enough food and water or it was on his head if someone died.

They had set up camp at a old rundown military shelter. It had steel doors, large locks, high windows, and it used to have a surplus of food.

Ryder had been tracking the time but he hadn't realized how many days they'd really been here. The food was dwindling and he was really the only one besides his best friend, Turner, who was brave enough to go outside. Everyone else would rather starve, they said so anyways.

He had geared up, his trusty ax hanging off the side of his belt. He practiced day in and day out with the thing, resulting in his buffness he was rather proud of. This also kept him ready, just in case a zombie got in or he needed to fly solo.

After Turner was ready, they opened the doors and headed out. Turner took the lead and let Ryder trail behind, checking every so often to see how far away they were from the shelter.

"They'll be fine. We won't be gone that long anyway." Turner assured him. The shelter was built on the outskirts of a large city, although they weren't sure which one anymore. So it didn't take long for them to reach other buildings and hopefully food sources.

After an hour or so, they'd checked five houses, gotten to the edge of the city's bridge, and still hadn't seen one zombie mutant thing. Ryder was skeptical and worried but Turner just looked bored.

"Where do you think they all are? It isn't like the mutants to just disappear.." Ryder said in his gravely voice. He looked around again and grumbled.

"Get over it. We should only be so lucky." Turner said in response.

As they wondered into the city streets, they heard more sounds that had them on edge, but nothing showed up. Ryder hunched his shoulders and pulled out his ax when he heard something crack inside a broken down shop.

"I'm going in." He said quietly to Turner and slowly walked his way over to the doorway. He crouched down slightly and scoped it out.

Turner just rolled his eyes and stood there bored. He honesty didn't believe anything was up. They all probably just got hungry and went somewhere else to find food. They ate human flesh and there wasn't really that much around here anymore.

Meanwhile, Ryder had managed to get into the shop quietly and was poking around to see if he could find anything. He was just about to leave when suddenly something moved to his right. He didn't hesitate and swung his ax, straight at whatever it'd been.