Bone Hunter: A Novelette in the Dark of Dawn Series (4 page)

Food runs out quickly in the Badlands when there are no convenience stores to keep ones supplies stocked, this was a simple reality of the new world. Within days the cupboards at the new location had become close to empty, most tins of canned food had been depleted and other provisions were running dangerously low. Hunkering down to avoid the recent storm had taken away all of the opportunities he needed to forage, it was time to now replenish and restock.

Empty streets lay barren lonely and deserted. The man decided to venture deeper into the wastelands in search of provisions that might have been left behind when the city was evacuated. This was always a risky strategy fraught with more danger than he should really be exposing himself to, but food was scarce and he
knew
there were supplies to be discovered there.

As he strolled through the godforsaken wastelands the man came upon the dead bodies of several survivors that were rotting out in the open. A blanket of black crows had descended to pick at the carrion, stripping skin from bones. Sights like these were not uncommon as people out scavenging often fell victim to creatures, sometimes even dying at the hands of other people. The black cloud ascended to the heavens as the man and his companion approached the large evil-looking birds cawing loudly in unison, annoyed that their meal had been disturbed.

Raiding vending machines, shelves and cupboards he scavenged what he could from shops, mini-marts and restaurants along the way. His haul was a reasonably good one and late that afternoon with several full backpacks, satisfied he had made the right decision he decided it was time to head back.

There was a briskness to the breeze as it whipped its way down the long deserted street the man and his dog walked carefully along. It had been raining on and off all day and another squall arrived bringing with it a heavy downpour.

Within minutes it had started to pelt down drenching everything under the ominous dark clouds that had just rolled in. They were still a long way from home and whilst the man knew it was only a passing shower he still had to get off the road to escape the rain. Darting for cover he ran down the first available set of stairs and took shelter. He was immediately consumed by darkness.

The subway was not an ideal setting to be alone in not now, not ever for it presented its own unique set of dangers that lurked deep in the dark. There had been nowhere else for him to go to take shelter and as far as he was concerned despite the risks, at least he was now dry.

With a click he switched on his flashlight illuminating the way ahead. It was a sullen gloomy place, one which he had only ventured into once since the turn. He feared it, but today could not avoid it.

“Come on boy,” he whispered to his sidekick, “keep your ears on.”

In no time at all the sound of the torrential downpour outside began to fade as the man led them away from the entrance, venturing further down the stairs into the murky subway system. He was greeted with exactly what he expected and anticipated, total chaos and desolation. It was eerie down there, deathly quiet scary and totally pitch-black. Newspapers with bold headlines lay scattered everywhere. APOCALYPSE – RUN NOW! read one. ALL HOPE LOST read another.

As he stepped into the main foyer he felt the ever-present threat of danger all around him, following him and grabbing at him from within the dark. Every step he took created a tiny echo that raced through tunnels, jumped tracks and sped towards the next station, alerting and alarming. Nerves of steel were being tested.

Finally he found what he was looking for just off from the deserted ticketing booth, a large vending machine that was filled to the brim with chocolates and sweets. Removing his backpack he laid it on the ground then panned around with his flashlight and shotgun to check that the coast was clear. Nothing stirred. With the butt of his Mossberg he shattered the glass and proceeded to hastily stash the loot into whatever spaces remained in his pack and pockets.

“Good score aye boy!”

The dog licked its snout, he was hungry. Saliva slobbered and dripped from his gums.

“Right,” said the man, having emptied the contents completely, save for a few items he detested or was unable to digest. M&M peanuts due to a nut allergy and salt and vinegar potato chips, he simply loathed the flavor. “Ok! Let’s go wait it out up top buddy.”

As man and beast set off through the dark heading for the entrance a disturbing sound came at them with a rush, like an express train. The man had half been expecting to hear it sooner or later and was actually glad it had taken this long for it to arrive. A low sickening moan echoed through the subway tunnels. Then another, with more and more following shortly afterwards. Before long the entire underground network was resonating loudly with the sound of the undead.

Making haste the man moved through the debris as quickly as he could making a bee-line for the stairs. Conscious of the threat he had to make it out before he was cut off, or face the prospect of fighting for his life in the dark. He was too late.

Sensing the danger lurking in the gloom ahead the dog stopped dead, bared its fangs and gave a vicious snarl. He was truly this man’s best friend, sidekick and lookout.

Spinning on his heels the man shone his light in the direction his dog had indicated. There, before him emerging from the shadows came three creatures, remnants of a man and two women. He needed to decide quickly the best course of action knowing that his shotgun would alert any and all other inert forms that lay in the dark. His knife though would be harder to wield as he would have to hold the flashlight in the other hand in order to see his attackers. It was a tough predicament indeed.

Three shots rang out and shell casings rattled as they hit the ground, sending echoes resonating through every recess in the dark. The man, whilst thankful to still be alive, shit his pants. The sound of moaning instantly became so loud he could hardly hear himself think. He had just woken the dead and it was now time to go and go quickly.

“Run boy!” he said, with urgency and fear in his voice. “Run!”

Never before had he sprinted so fast hurdling whatever was in front of him as if he were an Olympic athlete chasing the tape on the line. The dog reached safety first and continued on without waiting for his master. In hot pursuit the man made it to the foot of the stairs, but only just.

An ugly and grotesque creature lunged at him, savage teeth desperately gnashing wildly in an attempt to tear his flesh from bone. The two met head on and collided sending them both crashing heavily to the ground. Releasing his grip on flashlight and rifle the man watched as they both went skidding across the tiled surface landing well out of reach.

To his left the creature moaned as it fought to right itself like a toppled tortoise, eventually managing to roll onto its side. It lunged again landing on top of him snapping yellow and rotted teeth a hair’s breadth away from his face. Ten inches of serrated steel ended the tussle in an instant as he drove his blade deep into the creature’s forehead. There was no time to think as more moaning came from everywhere around him.

Diving to the ground he reached for his Mossberg, pumped it then rolled onto his back to face the darkness. His breath was short and his heart thumped loudly against his chest wall, shaking his entire body with each beat. On hands and knees he crawled towards the flashlight which was shining brightly against the white tiled wall. As he swung the beam into the dark he shit his pants for the second time that day.

A horde of undead creatures were marching straight towards him, shuffling and staggering out of time. Quickly he got to his feet and turned towards the entrance, his nerves of steel standing firm, for now.

With a flicker, the flashlight’s batteries died.

Darkness!

Waves of ice and fog crept through the enchanted forest of
Glasir
, whose trees bore leaves of the reddest gold. Lapping against the massive doors of the heavenly realm of light, they washed over the foot of the enormous stone steps outside. High overhead inside the vast hall the rafters that were lined with a thousand spears glinted brightly. Golden shields and breastplates glittered on benches everywhere.

The great hall opened up majestically to reveal five hundred and forty doors, each so massive they towered high above the tallest of men. A wolf stood guard, menacingly holding a strong and purposeful pose at the western door. Soaring high above an eagle kept a watchful gaze over all and sundry below.

Expansive tables laden with only the finest food and drink welcomed the new arrival, a ceremonial feast fit for kings. Mead ran freely from the udders of a goat, the sounds of frivolity and revelry rang through the hall loudly.

Odin’s messengers came, surrounded by bright white light singing softly of war and heroes and fighting on the battlefield. They sang of healing wounds, of the Gods, of fighting well and of the world that can still be saved.

Ragnarok, the battle for the end of the world, awaits you!

Bark!

A long echo trailed off into the darkness.

Standing over his master’s body the dog gave a whimper before licking his face in a desperate attempt to rouse him. The man awoke in a world of pain, his left hand throbbed with an intensity he had never felt before in his life. It was as if a thousand needles were working in unison to inflict as much discomfort and agony on him as possible.

The visions of the great hall, the feast and the Gods all faded quickly.

Light burned his eyes as he stepped through the breach, the falling rain hitting him like pellets from a shotgun. He was alive and scrambling to the street he staggered away from the entrance, leaving the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the subway behind.

Cradling his wounded hand the man resigned himself to the worst possible outcome, for he knew without even looking at it what the congealed blood on his wrist signified. He had to stop the spread of the virus there was no other alternative aside from removing the infected body part. Dismembering the limb, he had seen this done successfully early after the turn, now he had no choice but to do the same.

Reaching for his long serrated blade he prepared himself for the agony that was to come. It had to be done though, there was no other way to save his own life than this. It was imperative that he removed any chance of the infected blood circulating through his system. Placing the knife against the skin an inch above his wrist he started to apply pressure, blood trickled onto the bench top as he began to cut.

Bark!

Startled, and completely caught off-guard the man dropped the knife. He was in such a high state of anxiety and fear that the slightest disturbance was always going to shatter his already brittle nerves. His steely façade was finally starting to fade.

Bark!

“What is it boy?” he quizzed his companion.

A rumbling came from out on the street, a sound he had not heard for some time. It wasn’t loud just the low steady hum of a vehicle which, as far as he could tell was traveling at speed. Looking at his hand he stared at the self-inflicted wound, the deep gash he had slit into his skin which was still bleeding. He felt sick to his stomach about what he had to do knowing he should continue but unable to bring himself pick up his knife to actually finish the task.

Grabbing his M24 sniper rifle he headed to the front of the building to check out the disturbance. He vowed to himself that he would finish this gruesome chore as soon as he could, but the safety of his compound took precedence. Just how he justified that over a life-ending infection he would never know.

As the vehicle drew nearer it became apparent that it was indeed motoring. In a flash of yellow it appeared from around the bend ahead swerving through the debris without losing momentum. The man concluded immediately that the driver must be someone incredibly experienced in order to be able to handle a car with that sort of skill, weaving through chicanes with such ease.

Without changing speed the taxi whizzed past underneath the window. The man’s cross-hairs zeroed in on the driver following his every move. Behind the wheel sat an Indian man with a thick dark beard covering his face and a turban wrapped around his head, his hands never leaving the wheel and his eyes firmly affixed to the road, he was driving determined.

As quickly as it appeared the yellow taxi vanished from sight, disappearing around a corner. The rumbling softened and in no time at all the streets went deathly quiet once again. The man removed his finger from the trigger, where he had held it in readiness to shoot. Every scenario was potentially life-threatening and he knew never to take anything for granted.

This was a very unusual occurrence for it was incredibly rare to see any sort of vehicle on the road at all, let alone a big yellow taxi. Such a random event could not have come at a more opportune time for him, but he sighed heavily knowing that it was only a slight reprieve. He now had to finish what he started.

Picking up the ten inch long serrated knife the man reluctantly prepared himself to complete the task he knew would ultimately save his life. He peeled back his Kevlar leather gloves to take a look at the wound, he felt the need to now look at it before he removed his hand completely.

To his complete surprise the bite mark did not look anything close to what he had envisioned it would. It was decidedly different to that of a human bite mark, or one that might have be caused by an undead creature. This was nothing like that at all, it was much narrower and longer similar to that of a dog bite.

What the fuck?

“Was that you boy?”

Whimper.

With a sigh the man slumped to the ground in shock. His knife clattered loudly as it spilled from his hands, which now covered his eyes as he sobbed. A sense of absolute relief swept over him.

Weeks turned into months and the wastelands simply lay in ruin as time passed her by. The barrenness, the solitude and the emptiness of it all was not lost on the man, who relentlessly continued on with his quest. He fought on bravely amidst the loneliness and desolation around him.

His dreams frequently took him to Valhalla where he again ventured into the great hall to kneel before Odin. Around him appeared the faces of all the brave warriors who had died defending the Badlands, many of whom had perished warding off the new scourge that infested the earth.

The man was reminded every time he stepped foot into this heavenly realm of light in his slumber, of the task he had been assigned.

He was the keeper of the city.

The Reaper.

The Bone Hunter.

This was his final battleground!