Defiance In Hell

Pre - Apocalypse

July 13, 2012
' Give me the beat boys and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away. Give me the beat boys and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away. Won't you take me away..'

The static finishes off Uncle Krackers lyrics and soon absorbs the rest. "Godamn Radio I just put a new -I- tena on this fuckin' piece of shit truck and now you done gon' and fucked up again!" Keith Miller a tall man of 6 foot 3 inches cusses.

The burly man shoots a loggie of decent size out the Ford window and into the cool breezy Washington state coastline wind.

With an inquisitive mind Keith watches the spit ball go splat on the unlucky son of a bitch behind him. The amount of joy a single string of saliva gave him was uncanny.

Keith's laugh turns into a wheeze of sorts which was just enough of a distraction that when his eyes finally did focus back a blur appears in front of him and was met with an unpleasant surprise.

His unkept chestnut locks swept forward into his line of vision. Keith's right steel toed boot crushes the break down to the floor. Late. He was to late.

With a loud commotion of *Crash!* and *Boom!* The 1967 Ford F100 found itself a permanent place to rest among the fallen rocks and rubble. On impact Keith went head first into the metal steering wheel only after did the air bags deploy.

The shock put him out cold the front windshield shatters as the antique begins its death roll slowly at first then all at once. The bone crushing pressure was enough to smash the windshield into tiny bits, most impale Keith without much friction.

When the Ford finally lays still upside down in the bottom of the culvert the area surrounding the crash goes deathly silent. An unwelcome aura is given off by the loomy forest above.

Keith lay there a small groan begins to escape his lips streaks of blood that had run down from his face leaves a sticky trail along side his mouth. His vision peppered with black spots the world beneath him begins to spin.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut in hope that it will pass reluctantly after a few long anticipated deep breaths his rough masculine hands now full of calluses and glass splinters.

"What the hell did I hit? " Keith grunts an insufferable amount of pain began to surge through his left arm.

"Fuck!" The ragged man yells out swiftly his meaty fingers begin to unbuckle the already torn seatbelt.

"When life gives you lemons..." he grunts once more his legs free from the metal death trap.

"Get a fuckin' refund..." The woodsman puts his legs to use immediately Keith kicks the loose glass dangling from it's unstable state.

Sluggishly the man crawls out of the blood stained Ford and slumps down by the front left tire his hands shake and body trembles as a cool sea breeze blows by.

Keith peers back up at the interstate where his 1967 made the decision to commit suicide.

The sky was overcast but that never ceases the sun to poke in once in a while up ahead where the derailment had taken place stood a gloomy figure that took the shape of another human being.

"Hey! Yeah you asshole! Get your ass down here and get me outta this mess!" Keith says.

No response.

The figure begins to sway drunkenly down the slope towards the accident. Eventually it falls and rolls involuntarily towards Keith.

Who by now notices the grostique state of this man.

"You doing alright there kiddo? " His back hand fumbles for the hunting knife on the back of his belt loop.

Loose flesh hung from the maw and long black streaks ran down the front of his north face navy blue sweatshirt it's teeth grind against one another in anticipation. This man was very ugly and very dead. Undead.

The creature did not waste times to safely get down onto his knees but instead sloppily dove onto Keith.

It's jaws begin to snap at his face furiously it took all of his strength to keep the monsters decaying teeth from sinking into his jugular. With a final *Umpf* the undead was off of him which gave Keith enough time to pull the camouflage hunting knife from it's socket and lodge itself with a sickening crunch into the cranium of the once unstoppable killing machine.

Keith pants and slumps back down onto the frigid cold grass face full of blood and sweat still oozing from his open wounds. He was in need of medical attention. His body had enough and eventually shut down to rest leaving himself defenseless and alone in a horror ridden world.