The Birth of the New World

-Chapter I-

Beef Stew

Another dreary and overcast day, barely a ray of sunlight manages to find its way through the tinted skylights and partially collapsed ceiling of the old, ruined department store, casting its interior in early twilight.

Scavengers layered in ratty and torn layers of clothing are quietly skulking through the once fully stocked aisles searching for anything they can get their hands on. Carefully navigating their way around the debris and detritus of nearly two years of abandon.

Within a lone aisle, making sure to stay out of sight of the others, I’m slowly looking through what used to be the canned food section. “Come on, there has to be at least a couple cans left.” I tell myself.

Walking down the aisle I near a section of shelving that had completely collapsed, bring down some of its once tall neighbors.

“Maybe there’s still a few cans left under these?” Taking out my flashlight and getting low to the dust covered floor I peak under the collapsed shelving unit. “I think I can see some! Oh shit...”

I quickly looked around to make sure that no one overheard that little outburst. I don’t think anyone did. Readjusting myself to get a good grip, by getting up into a squat position, I grab onto the edges of the shelf.

“Come on Lain, lift with your legs, not your back.” I tell myself as I try to lift a section of metal shelving that easily dwarfs my own height. “Just have to move it a little bit.”

Lifting with everything my malnourished body can give, I manage to bring the shelving unit up and over a bit higher on to its collapsed neighbor.

I try the best I can to do so quietly, but that’s quite difficult to do when moving gods knows how many pounds of metal. I set it down and start shaking out my hands. Gods, why do they have to make these things so heavy?

Getting back down to the floor again, I grab my flashlight from where I had set it aside and try to find my target again. “Come on, I did a bunch of work, now it time for my prize,” I softly say to myself.

Looking under the shelf and aiming my light underneath I see them, five cans. This must be my lucky day; I just know it. Stretching my arm, I can just barely reach them. Quickly, I look around for a nearby scrap of wood or anything I can use to fish out all the cans. Luckily with all the trash laying around this wreck, it doesn’t take me long to find a suitable poking stick.

Having acquired my new ultimate weapon, I quickly get to work on fishing out all the cans. After successfully poking and rolling all five of them out of their hidey hole, I happily set to work on identifying my prizes.

Please be something good, please!

Looking at the first can’s label I find mild success. “A can of green beans.” Meh, it’ll make mom happy at least. What about the other ones, any meat? Stowing the can of beans in my bag I looks to the other cans.

Oh, we got some ravioli, two of them! And we got a can of salmon, I’m not sure how well that will taste, but at least it’s protein.

Grabbing the last can, I couldn’t help but grimace at its appearance. It looked like another can of food had exploded all over this one and was left to rot. It had easily been sitting there for over a year just rotting away. I was honestly surprised that the roaches hadn't gotten to it. Although, considering how big some of them get nowadays, I guess it isn’t too surprising that they couldn’t reach it.

Disgusting things those roaches. Just thinking back to the one I saw scurrying around on my way here has me shuddering. It was as big as a cat! Well, as big as cats used to get anyways.

Shaking my head to rid my thoughts of those ‘little’ devils, and to get my brain back on track, I look back to the filth covered can of mystery contents, hopefully meat.

Grabbing my incredibly helpful stick of power, I set to work on scrapping off the white and black and for some reason fluffy filth that covers my final can. “Come on, please be something good. Making me wipe mystery gunk and mold off, it better be good.” I whisper.

Its job done, I set aside the now filthy stick. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

Thankful for the fact that I always wear gloves when I’m out, I wipe away the last few scraps and remains of the poor can’s cousins. Under the mess and printed on a horribly stained and rotted away label, I find treasure. I found some beef stew!

Yes! I’ll be eating good tonight. I can already taste the meat, potatoes and carrots. It’s been months since I’ve had beef.

“Hah, and mom said that I shouldn’t go out tonight. Well look at me, because I’m bringing home the meat!” I say while getting a bit too loud again.

Now, just got to get out of here without attracting too much attention.

Ever since dad hurt his leg, he hasn’t been able to go out scavenging and hunting with me. He hurt his ankle during one of our outings; slipped down a hill and splashed into the creek. Was pretty funny until I realized he got hurt and he started cursing and I had to help him limp all the way home.

Mom was so worried and pissed, he’s been stuck to the couch for the past week. She wasn’t happy with the idea of me going out alone today, but we needed to look for supplies. Our little backyard garden and trapping squirls isn’t going to keep all of us fed forever. At least not well fed.

But hah hah, look at me now! First outing by myself, and I’m bring back some of the good stuff!

Unfortunately, the world always seems all too happy to try and balance good luck with shit luck. As I’m finishing putting the cans in my backpack and getting off the nasty floor, I hear the sound of boots slowly walking towards my aisle.

Quickly turning around and slinging my bag to my back I look to see if I can spot who is approaching.

Generally speaking, scavengers keep their distance from one another, the smart ones at least. There is simply too much risk to dealing with other people you don’t know. It’s not like in games and movies where you can just shrug off getting into a fist fight or getting stabbed. There are no doctors anymore and medicine is even more scarce than food. If you get injured trying to take someone else’s shit, you could be out of commission for days or even weeks at a time. That not even mentioning the risk of infection or even just getting yourself killed on the spot for the trouble.

Unfortunately, some people still choose to take the risk. Switching off my flashlight and slowly backing up. I move myself over to the collapsed shelving that I had just been digging under. If whoever this is decides to try anything, I can quickly climb over to run away. At least I don’t have to worry about them having a gun.

It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, but when the apocalypse started, guns were everyone’s go to answer for most problems. This is, or at least was, American after all. If someone had something you wanted, wave a gun at them. Someone trying to steal your shit? Shoot them. You’re getting mauled by mutated animals or chased by monsters? Do not shoot them.

Sure, it worked pretty well back when there used to be tons of people and everyone and their brother was armed to the teeth. But bullets run out, and there are lots of monsters out there. After the military cleaned out whatever civilian ammunition they could get their hands on, and the rednecks threw away their lives trying to dish out some American justice to the monsters, ammo started to run pretty scarce. Worst yet is that now, firing a gun is almost guaranteed to draw hordes of monsters right to you.

It’s not just the noise from firing one either; the monsters just seem to plain hate them.

This hatred doesn’t just go towards guns. Anyone who tries to fix up a car to drive is just asking to get swarmed. Gas fueled generators and electric appliances draw their ire as well so long as it isn’t something small enough to fit in your hands. Nobody knows why they are like this, but my guess is that the monsters just don’t like modern technology.

I’m getting distracted again; there’s a potential threat approaching and I’m over here going off on a tangent.

Focus Lain, I must protect the beef stew! I mean, not get mugged…

While I’m getting myself refocused and I’ve finished climbing up the downed shelf, the stranger reaches my aisle and turns to look in my direction. Even without the flashlight we can still see each other with what little sunlight makes its way through the ruined roof.

The stranger, a thin man with an unkept beard and wearing many layers of ratty and torn clothes, is looking at me with an amused and curious expression on his dirty face.

“What’s a young girl like you doing out in a place like this? Not a very safe place for someone as young as you.” asks the stranger.

“I’m twenty years old, I’m not a young girl. As for what I’m doing, that’s my business, not yours.” I tell him, trying to act more confident than I actually am.

Laughing softly the stranger responds, “Ha hah, sorry miss. Didn’t mean anything by calling ya' young. But can you really blame an old man like me for being concerned when he sees a young woman all by herself out in a dangerous place like this?”

If it was two years ago his words could have been taken at face value. Nowadays, anyone you don’t know is a potential threat. Placing my hand on the next shelf in case I need to bolt, I respond to the man’s question.

“I’m not alone.” I lie, because obviously I don’t want him knowing that I’m here by myself, with a two and a half hour walk back home to look forward to.

Taking a step forward the man responds to my obvious lie, “Sure looks like you're alone. Why don’t you come over here and we can help each other look for supplies. If you’d like, you can come back to my place, and we could…”

He doesn’t get to finish what he was saying as I interrupt him. “I’m going to stop you right there mister. You don’t honestly think I would just follow some random stranger home, do you?”

He stays silent at that. After a second of staring at each other, he goes to take another step forward into the aisle.

Ya that’s a big nope for me. Let’s see if I can scare him off, I’d prefer to not have to run and waist energy.

Shooting him a glare with murder in my eyes, I make a show of drawing back the side of my jacket on my left side. There, sitting in a matte black hard plastic sheath is what could only be properly described as a ‘Big Ass Knife.’ This gets the stranger to stop, having clearly understood my threat.

This knife was something that my dad always insisted on having me carry around. While I’ve admittedly have never used it to fight someone, it always has been quite useful as a tool during our outings. Not to mention the fact that a knife that is just short of being considered a machete is pretty intimidating to anyone who doesn’t want to get cut.

Give a girl a little pocketknife and would be muggers will feel pretty confident about their chances. Give her a fucking sword and now they are considering the risks. Even someone with no training can be plenty dangerous just flailing around a big ass piece of steal.

And this guy knows it. I can see him eyeing the blade. He doesn’t know if I can even use the thing and he knows that it would still be dangerous even if I don’t. Is the stuff I have even worth the risk of getting slashed or stabbed? Probably not, is the answer he comes to as he starts to take a step back.

I don’t let myself relax as I see this; I don’t want him to change his mind. As he takes another slow step back the way he came I keep my eyes locked on him. The only sound is that of my breathing and the low echo of his steps. In the distance I can hear the other scavengers trying to quietly shift through debris looking for scraps.

When I entered this ruined department store, I only counted six people and made sure to keep my distance from all of them.

He’s starting to get further away from me now. Just a couple more steps and he’ll be hidden behind the corner again. I can’t let myself relax until he is not just out of eyesight, but also out of my hearing range.

Just hurry up and get away from me already!

As he’s about to cross the threshold and be out of sight he stops walking and opens his mouth to say something. I brace myself, getting ready for anything to happen when the both of us are suddenly interrupted by a loud catastrophe of noise.

The sudden shattering of glass, clanging of metal on floor, and the cursing and screams of men from the other side of the store instantly grabs both of our attention. That noise came from the entrance, what little remained of the automatic doors over there presumably.

Regretfully, my guess is soon proven correct when we hear the baying and howls of some large creatures that would have had no issue breaking through those old doors to enter this building.

This has the stranger cursing now as he turns his attention back towards me. He opens his mouth to tell me something but stops when he realizes that I’m already on the move, climbing other the shelving and getting ready to bolt for the rear of the store.

Does he really think I’m going to stand around and chat? Those sound like dogs, and I do not want anything to do with them!

Among the different mutated beasts out there, dogs are some of the most numerous and deadly. They’ve mutated to become larger, and more wolf like. They hunt in packs, and they always seem to be hungry. Generations of domestication and selective breeding were ruined in less than a year and now we are stuck with packs of these things prowling through the old cities of the world.

If there is any golden lining to this, it is that the packs of dogs never seem to grow too large, with about four to six members max per pack. That, and that they are very territorial, keeping other packs out of their area. I shudder at the thought of larger packs forming.

Shaking my head and getting focused, I jump off the shelf and make a dead sprint for the back of the store. The west entrance is where the dogs broke in from and while I’m actually closer to the eastern side entrance, escaping from there would be suicide. The wall and ceiling over that entrance has collapsed and if I want to get out that way I will have to climb over several tons of brick, metal, and other trash.

I wouldn’t be able to rush my climb, lest I slip and injure myself. And to make matters worse, climbing that heap of bricks would just make me easier to see. I’ll just have to try and get to the back rooms and escape out the back while the dogs are chasing the other scavengers.

As I’m running past aisles of collapsed and rusting shelves, backpack flopping on my back I risk taking a glance around to see if I can spot anything. Nothing yet, but it’s definitely getting noisy over there.

Taking a left at frozen foods, I keep running towards the backroom entryway.

I just have to get past shoes and then electronics to find the doors. At least I would normally, but as I’m nearing electronics I’m forced to stop as I see that a large portion of the ceiling here has collapsed and is blocking my path. I have to cut through clothing and circle around, but that will bring me closer to the dogs.

Quickly, I give myself a second to catch my breath before heading into what used to be the clothing section. Rows upon rows of empty clothes racks and their discarded hangers surround me as I move through. Unlike the other sections of the convenience store where the shelves are much taller than me, I’m feeling rather exposed as I am easily a good two feet taller than the clothing racks.

Crouching lower to hopefully avoid getting spotted, I move through the rows sticking close to the collapsed area as I continue to work my way around and towards the exit. All the while the baying of the hounds is getting louder and much more difficult to ignore. They are getting closer, and I need to hurry.

It’s when I finally have my destination in sight that everything suddenly gets much worse. As I’m leaving the rather poor cover of the clothing racks, another one of the scavengers comes rushing past from my left screaming something and looking rightfully scared out of his mind.

I don’t get much of a chance to process this as he is immediately followed by what appears to be a roided-out German Shepherd. It leaps out from the aisle and tackles the fleeing man to the floor, dragging him down, kicking and screaming by his jacket.

Holy shit, that thing is huge! Gathering up my courage I move around the flailing pair and make for the last stretch of ground before the doors.

It isn’t until I’ve plowed shoulder first through the door that I realize that I wasn’t the only one that thought to run here. From the direction that I came the stranger is also moving around the dog and the pinned man. Looking around I also see another two men running for the door from the right with another dog right behind them.

As quickly as I can, I move out of the way and hold the door for the others. Not really thinking to just shut it and be safe from those horrendous creatures.

The others quickly come pouring in through the door and turn to help shut the door. And not a moment too soon as the doors are suddenly hit by the dog on the other side, slamming into it like a ton of bricks. Barely managing to hold the door shut against the dog’s continued slams, one of the scavengers reaches down and forces the deadbolt closed to lock the doors.

Pointing to the side the stranger says, “Quick! We need to get this door barricaded!” With the two of us still holding the doors the other two run over to grab whatever they can to barricade the doors.

The two others working together grab and drag over a tool cabinet bracing it against the doors before then going for all long table covered in trash. With those now helping to hold the doors, the stranger and I move to go and grab anything else we can to pile up in front of the doors.

It’s not going to hold; we all know it. Especially once the other dogs join in trying to bring down the doors. Looking around we spot our exit. All the loading bay doors are regretfully closed shut, and it is questionable if we would be able to open them. Instead, we head for the loading bay entrance that the drivers would have used to enter the building.

With all of us rushing over it is one of the other two scavengers that makes it to the door first. The door is deadbolted and locked. Fumbling with the lock and trying to get the door open, the guy is taking forever. Getting impatient with the other guy’s inability to open a door, scavenger number 2, for a lack of better name, pushes him aside and unlocks the door.

Swinging it wide open and rushing out while cursing, the guy runs through the exit. We are all hot on his trail when he suddenly disappears from our view.

We all slam to a stop when we looked to see what had happened. He had just been taken down by another dog.

Those damn things must have surrounded the building! Oh gods, how do I get out of here?

While we are distracted by the dog mauling the unfortunate man, we all freeze when we hear growling coming from our left. Another dog, one that quite clearly used to be a poodle of all things, is making its presence known to us and is now blocking our escape.

We all turn around and move back inside. The stranger tries to go for the door to slam it shut but the mutated poodle jumps for him before he can grab it, forcing him to dodge out of the way, just barely avoiding getting his throat ripped out.

With the murder poodle now inside, we are all backing away and moving further into the backrooms. Our only exits are currently blocked by what is easily two hundred plus pounds of furry death snarling at us, and a self-made barricade that is making some very concerning noises right now.

Almost as if on cue, because clearly our situation is not shitty enough. The barricaded doors are blasted open with the right door being knocked off its hinges as the two other dogs from inside come plowing through. The two come skidding to a stop with one of them, the roided out german shepherd, sliding on its side for about a meter.

As the dogs are getting themselves reorientated, the last scavenger, the stranger and I look at each other. We're all screwed, and we all know it.

Without even so much of a word between the three of us we all come to an agreement. We all bolt, heading in separate directions. I don’t look back to see where they are going. I don’t look back to see if I’m being chased. I know I am. I can hear it. The clicking of it claws on concrete floor and the sound of its breath escaping its maw is all I need to hear to know that death is hot on my tail.

My heart is beating out of my chest as I run, slamming my way through a sharp turn as I try to navigate the backroom storage area. A large crash follows behind me a mere second after the turn as whichever dog it that is chasing me slams into the same corner.

Hearing the crash, I take the risk to look back as I run to see my pursuer.

It’s the poodle! I’m being hunted by a fucking POODLE!

This strangely gives me more motivation to run as a fresh burst of adrenaline flows through my veins. Running with everything my underfed muscles can give, I keep going. One more corner and I see my only hope. A door is open, leading into what looks like what used to be an office.

Seeing as I am being hunted right now, it being an office is honestly not important, but the mind has a way of latching on to weird details. Not to mention that everything is starting to get really slow right now. Too much adrenaline, I feel like my heart is going to explode and the edge of my vision is going black. Probably not good, but again, ultimately not important.

Risking another look over my shoulder I see something that has my heart nearly stop. The damn murder poodle is almost on me. It’s probably about five meters away, but with how slow time is going I can see it. The way its muscles are tensing; it’s getting ready to jump at me. I’m almost to the door but I won’t make it in time. I won’t even be able to touch the door before it hits me.

Not even realizing what I’m doing, I find myself turning to face the dog. My right hand had at some point latched on to the grip of my knife and started drawing it.

In my new slow and adrenaline-fueled world, I find myself watching my own body move to protect itself.

I guess that fight-or-flight kicked in and lizard brain instincts chose violence as the way to go out. Honestly, it’s a much more preferable way to go I guess than just getting run down by a fucking poodle.

Oh, it’s jumping at me now, and holy shit those teeth are big. Going right for my head it looks like. With how wide its opening it mouth it could probably fit my whole head in there.

Slowly flying towards me, as if swimming through molasses, the dog gets closer and closer. As I’m watching it slowly fly towards me in all its horrific glory. Part of my vision is blocked as my left arm rises in front of my face.

Ah, going for a block. I really don’t want my face getting bitten off, but now it’s going to take even longer to kill me. Hah, this is weird… I know that adrenaline can make human do some pretty crazy stuff, but this is just ridiculous. This doesn’t seem normal, and why am I so calm? I’m about to get mauled to death by a fucking roided-out death poodle of all things and I’m calm. I’m about to die an incredibly painful death and I am just sitting here analyzing it. This isn’t normal.

Unfortunately, while time is running slower, it hasn’t stopped entirely. While I’ve been uselessly analyzing my situation and my body has been moving to protect itself, the dog had been cutting through the air like the world’s ugliest heat seeking missile ever made.

It’s, no sorry, it is apparently a He. Really didn’t need to see that. His front legs are poised forward ready to pin my body to the ground. Mouth spread open with teeth all showing, covered in saliva and who knows how much germs and bacteria. His tongue is hanging uselessly out the side, slowly flapping in the breeze with a disgusting line of drool trailing behind it. His eyes are locked on to my head, showing no intelligence like you may find in your loving family pet.

There is only hunger, and to its eyes, I am food.

My entire world ignites in pain as the first of the dog’s teeth effortlessly tear their way through the layers of clothes protecting my arm and pierce my flesh. My slow world begins to speed up as the pain draws my mind kicking and screaming back into reality. My return to normal time is accompanied by a large snapping noise as the dog slams its mouth closed around my arm.

Its body slams into me at full speed and the two of us go flying through the door of the office where the last thing I see is the rotted and yellowed ceiling tiles of the old office.

My head hits the floor, and everything goes black.