Hidden

Prologue

It is 12:28 A.M., twelve years after the horrific event that caused the end of the world. The cold winter's wind whistles quietly through the dark streets of what used to be San Francisco. The former traffic hotspot now only holds a few rusty vehicles that have long since broken down. The city was abandoned as soon as the shelters were opened two years after the event, but even those hadn't been enough to stop death's slow crawl towards humanity. Buildings now crumble and fall as vines and weeds tear through brick and concrete, filling the streets and covering walls. Where people and cars used to cross the city, wild dogs and rats now roam freely.

Graffiti still adorns the walls from when punk teens ran through the midnight streets, but now the streets are ruled by something else entirely. Broken glass lies beneath windows shattered when the riots started. Stores lie empty, as they have been since people began looting to stock up when they realized this wasn't going to end anytime soon, if ever. Large walls made from scrap metal still mark areas where different groups of people took over parts of the city in a final failing effort to save civilization.

The famous Golden Gate Bridge still stretches itself before the San Francisco Bay. There are only two things to disturb its presence: the ocean breeze that sometimes picks up and causes it to sway, and the haunting, inhuman screams of the final inhabitants of the city.

Enduring these screams is a group of four men covered head-to-toe in black tactical gear. All four carry a suppressed .17 AHMR assault rifle, a Sig Sauer P238, and a Jagdkommando Tri-Dagger for close encounters. Their air-tight and filtered black helmets keep all exchanged words private through their communicators. These helmets also amplify sounds in the outside world and track nearby movement in the Heads-Up Display that outline the inside of their visors. Moving as one unit, they move from one alleyway to another, checking corners to avoid the terrors that could be anywhere.

"Movement at 12 o'clock, 40 meters and closing."

The calm, simple words resonate in their ears as they slow their pace and brace for whatever awaits them. The lead man, who had spoken, takes point and edges along the brick wall of an old diner they are moving next to. Using hand motions, he directs each of the others to their positions as they prepare. One man crouches behind a large dumpster and double-checks his magazine to make sure it's full. Another silently climbs into the fire escape to scout ahead. The third goes with the leader to watch the corner where some unknown enemy nears.

What appears to be a normal person rounds the corner and looks straight at them. It is a 5'9" white male with brown hair. He is wearing a blue-and-red plaid dress shirt and jeans. One shot from the man in the fire escape drops him right as he opens his mouth to scream. But it is too late. The scream has been cut off, but a glimpse of a shriek echoes between the surrounding collapsed structures. As the body falls, his veins suddenly turn black and his eyes roll back into his head as if to watch the bullet enter his forehead. Screams erupt from around the corner as more people follow the first, enraged at seeing one of their own terminated. The lead soldier fires a couple rounds quickly and drops a grenade while yelling into his helmet to retreat. Some of the monsters climb the fire escape after the sniper while the rest follow the other three.

The sniper reaches the top of the fire escape and runs to the far side of the roof. The creatures follow quickly after. Right before he fires at them, the soldier looks at who he is about to shoot. Some of them are women, middle-aged or even older, and some are men, running towards him and screaming. He holds up his rifle and looks at their faces through his scope, wishing it hadn't come to this.

Meanwhile, in the streets below, the other three squad members flee from the hordes of creatures right on their heels. Curses fly from the mouth of one as he trips over a piece of concrete and they are on him before he can scream. The metallic, dirty scent of blood fills the air as their hands tear into him and come back stained red. His partners don't look back as they look for a way out of this hellish maze.

On the rooftop, the sniper shoots three of the beasts before he suffers the same fate as his fallen brother.

The final remaining humans in a city of death go into an alley, hoping to find a shortcut, but find only a dead end, their path blocked by debris from a building collapsed from old age. They turn to face the horrors following them, bring their guns up, and say a few final words.

"It's been a pleasure, Sir."

"Pleasure's all mine."

They are the last words they speak.

The creatures feast.