His chest heaved rapidly as he gasped for air hunched over in the middle of the street. With every inhale, the smell of rot and gasoline filled his lungs making him crave fresh air. He looked around in an attempt to locate himself. Abandoned vehicles, garbage, and dead bodies were scattered amongst the street like shattered glass on a kitchen floor. He was surrounded by shops and tall glass office buildings seemingly untouched by this man made apocalyptic world. It's been six years, three months and 18 days since he's felt safe, since anyone's felt safe. The government went to shit, people got scared, now you never know when you'll be taking your last breath, and right now might be Thomas'. He did not know where he was. All he knew was he had to run. Fast. Stumbling around in a circle trying to decide where to run next, he recognised the sounds of engines roaring down the road. "Fuck" he whispered to himself. No time to run, he needed to hide. He whipped his head around in every direction trying to find a hiding spot. He saw the reflection of vehicles in the windows lining the streets. Upon this sighting, he dove into a pile of charred bodies near the side of the road. Once concealed amongst the rotting corpses, he peaked out over the shoulder of a corpse to get a look down the road. Three massive trucks equipped with flamethrowers and explosives came barreling down the pavement paying no attention to the obstacles in their way. One truck drove straight through a barricade of cars surrounding a small bakery, another made an effort to drive over every corpse littering the street and the last drifted into the perfect windows of the tall office buildings shattering them into a million pieces. He had no religious beliefs, but he prayed to see another sunrise. These three trucks belonged to "the skelters". The skelters are who to blame for this hell hole of a world. When the government was on its way out, they made sure they'd never come back. They are anarchists, arsonists, demolitionists... basically, they're nuts. And they were after him. A few days ago Thomas, his wife and his 4 year old daughter Harley were taken by the skelters. While in captivity they were seperated, Thomas was beaten, starved and drained of his own blood for their pleasure, and his wife and child... he could only imagine the horrors they experienced. He managed to break free of his imprisonment and frantically searched the skelters base for his family, all he found were the remains of his wife's dismembered body, and his daughter was no where in sight. In rage, he grabbed any weapon he could find and slaughtered any skelters that crossed his path. He now realises that was a huge mistake. The trucks stopped almost in front of Thomas' little barricade of bodies, they shut off their vehicles and began to congregate outside of the biggest truck in the middle of the road. The setting sun reflected off their pale white skin making it seem as if they were glowing. 'Too busy beating the crap out of people to get a tan?' he thought, Thomas chuckled. He listened close to their conversation. Their voices were low and crackled as if they were holding back a cough or choking on a grain of rice. "He couldn't have gotten far on foot. We syphoned all the gasoline from every car all the way up to the train tracks 9 blocks north from here." 'North. I need to go north.' He devised a plan in his mind to get himself to the train tracks before morning. As long as the skelters stayed put this task would be a piece of cake. "We need to split up to cover more ground. Nix and Polex take the east, Capers and Chestic you take the west and Yulios and I will take the north." "Well fuck me." Thomas said a little too loudly. The skelters looked over to the pile of dead bodies that Thomas was hiding behind. One of the skelters pointed at Thomas' blond hair that was just peaking over the bodies and shouted "There he is!" Thomas bolted up and ran down the road as fast as he could as the skelters hurried into their war machines. He turned into an alley way leading to the next street over. "One down, eight to go." He said with sarcastic confidence. As he ran towards the next street the skelters trucks were driving full speed towards him armed with fire. Thomas, frozen with fear, stood in the middle of the road staring at the flames that shined like stars in the dark of night. The smell of burning rubber snapped him out of his trance like state and as the flames were about 5 feet away he dropped onto the asphalt hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs. As the truck drove over him, he could smell burnt hair. The flamethrowers had burned the top of his head and most of his back. The pain was unbarable. He lays face down on the pavement gasping for air as the two other trucks drive past him. He hears their wheels screech indicating round two is about to commence. He waits. As the trucks get closer he readies himself to make a run for the next alley way. Closer. Closer. Once they are a cars length away he jumps up ignoring the searing pain of his burnt flesh and makes it to the alley despite tripping on a corps lying on the sidewalk. The skelters trucks begin to slide into each other while they attempt to stop, blocking the road. Thomas runs through the next street, and the next, and the next until there are only 2 more streets to go. He looks around. "No alley way..." the only way to get to the next street is to go to the intersection down the road. He would be completely exposed and at the mercy of the skelters. He stops for a second, listening for the sounds of engines... he hears nothing. Thomas, now succumbing to his inguries, begins to half jog half run towards the intersection. Once he is more than half way there he hears that familiar sound getting louder and louder. He takes a deep breath, bottles up his pain as best as he can and sprints as fast as his body will allow towards the intersection. Once he is standing in the middle of the intersection he is blinded by the bright headlights of the skelters vehicles. While he begins to run towards the next street he hears a thud to his left. He takes a second to look over, and once he realises what has been thrown his way, the explosion projects him into the air and he's slammed against a brick wall. A horrible high pitched scream fills his ears. Once again he can't ignore his burnt body and is paralized with pain and disorientation. He looks off to his right and sees the train tracks. 'I was so close...' He then looks up to the night sky and stares blankly at the moon while the skelter crew exits their trucks and walk over to his seemingly lifeless body. He glances at them and it seems as if they are laughing in slow-motion, as they draw knives from their persons and stare at Thomas' chest. 'I guess I'll never see another sunrise', and then in an instant his vision went black and he felt and brief sharp stab in his heart, then nothing at all.
