Alex wakes up, a bit groggy, his breathing ragged. His right hand felt a bit numb, he's starting to scan his surroundings, noting the eerie quiet.
He starts to pace in the middle of an empty room: "Is anybody here!?" There's no response, just his echo.
It was somewhat dark inside, only enlightened by the sun's beams passing through a broken window.
Alex rubbed his temples, and the throbbing pain in his head dulled to a ache, as if it were a weight that carried the memories just beyond his reach. The room smelled of decay and dust, and something metallic. His heart was racing, not from fear so much as questions assaulting his mind.
Where the hell am I? he muttered, his voice hoarse and raspy, as if he hadn't spoken in days. His gaze drifted to the shelves strewn across the floor, broken jars and containers spilling their contents of canned goods, tools, and random items whose purpose he couldn't fathom.
He approached the window cautiously, trying not to touch the jagged shards of glass that framed its edges. The cityscape outside was barely recognizable. What used to be a majestic skyline had now come down to a macabre silhouette of destruction, with the twisted skeletons of skyscrapers looming like forgotten tombstones. The vegetation had invaded every available nook, as if jeering at humanity's absence.
From where he was, Alex could make out what appeared to be a rusted bus lying on its side, its interior gutted, the unmistakable glint of bones visible through its shattered windows. He shuddered. What lay outside wasn't just abandoned; it was desolate and haunted.
"How long has it been like this?" The words escaped his lips like a prayer, though no answer came. His fingers tightened against the windowsill, the paint flaking under his grip.
He turned back to the room, determined to search for anything. He kicked aside debris in his quest to make something out of the mess, and amidst these scattered items, he found a faded leather backpack. Inside were a few canned goods, a flashlight with barely any charge, and a knife. Not much, but it was something.
Alex slung the backpack over his shoulder. "First step," he whispered to himself, "find out if I'm alone".
He cautiously made his way towards the door, which was ajar, and the hall beyond was no less trashed: torn wallpaper and rusty metal trim. He stepped over a toppled chair, crunching shards of glass under boots. His ears strained for the slightest sound, but he heard only the soft whine of wind through broken walls.
As he made his way down the crumbling staircase, he saw graffiti scrawled on the walls: "STAY QUIET. THEY HEAR EVERYTHING." It chilled him to a stop.
"They? Who's they?" he whispered, and his heart thundered against his chest. To think that he was not alone in this ruined world-it should have been comforting; it wasn't. His hand tightened on the knife.
Once he reached the ground floor, Alex pushed open the heavy front doors; they creaked noisily on their hinges. The air was thick outside and humid, full of the scent of earth and rot. He squinted against the sunlight as he stepped onto the cracked pavement.
The faint sound came with a rhythmic, metallic clang, rattling, like something clattering along the ground across his path. He stayed frozen, his instincts clamoring for him to bury himself in a hiding place.
Ducking behind a rusted car, Alex peered through a gap in the twisted metal. A shadow danced across the street, humanoid in shape yet unmistakably wrong.
Its elongated limbs twitched unnaturally, its head cocked as if sniffing the air. It dragged something behind it, a jagged piece of rebar clanging against the asphalt.
Alex held his breath, every muscle tensed. The creature paused and swung its head in his direction. For a moment, he swore its hollow eyes locked onto him. His mind screamed to run, but his body refused to budge.